


Cry Wolf

by Linkstargazing



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4922377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linkstargazing/pseuds/Linkstargazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(AU set in an Old Time-y Buies Creek) The town is in a growing hysteria. Only one skeptic, a barber named Charles L. Neal, has it right in his head. But his old childhood friend, Rhett, has a secret that may sway him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If there was anything Charles loathed more than the threat of another mass hysteria, it was the stupid, impossible rumor which started it all. Old Buies Creek had a knack for picking up one fool’s tall tale and spreading it like the gospel—if only. Last month, goat-suckers were all the craze. Every child begged their parents to let them take their beloved farm animals in from the stables, only to find the devils had eaten half the child’s bedsheets in the morning. Turns out the infamous goat-suckers were a pack of starving, sickly dogs which ran away from home long ago and have since been killed off. A strong skeptic such as Charles L. Neal III had seen that ending to the fairytale a mile away. And even now, as the dog-tired barber sipped his morning coffee in the corner of a saloon full of babbling half-wits, Charles could only roll his eyes at the words lycan, werewolf, and man-beast.

“You bet yer bottom dollar I seen ‘im that night. Darn near spooked my horses right down the hillside and into the creek! Could’a swore the demon ‘bout turned round to finish the job too.”

“Oh, yeah? Just how fast was it? ‘Cause Ol’ Mr. Hughes came to tell me that next mornin’ the beast’d come through his barn lookin’ fer chickens and ended up rippin’ the back doors clean off. It’d take one ‘ellofa run to get from Hughe’s property to yer’s.”

Charles had enough for one morning. He made a point to slam his little mug down with a high-pitched clink and scrape his chair legs across the floorboards before getting up and heading out the door, catching the side eye of many who’d noticed his display.

Crisp autumn winds whispered about him on his walk up the street to the barbershop, promising the turn of seasons soon to come. Charles tucked his head further into his scarf and quickened his pace until he reached the entrance, marked by a tall swirling pillar. Once out of the chilling weather, he hung up his hat, scarf, and overcoat and greeted the only other person in the wide room. “Mornin’, Chase.”

The young man presented him his apron and Charles took it. “Good morning, Neal, sir,” he peeped timidly, without a hint of Southern in his voice.

“Where’re Edward and Alexander?” Charles asked the apprentice. He turned to the nearest mirror and rearranged his windswept hair, making sure to fluff up the raven curls hugging his ears. Puffed up his bowtie and adjusted his circler spectacles. Beautiful.

“Uh, well,” Chase tugged at his shirt collar, “both were here at some point…”

Charles gritted his teeth. His two only employees had a reputation for sneaking out when their boss wasn’t around, i.e. on lunch break. However, the work day hadn’t even started yet, making this particular ‘disappearing act’ highly unusual. The poor barber slumped against the counter, feeling a sizable headache coming on. Was the world against him?

“Um. Sir?” the apprentice piped up.

“What is it?” Charles didn’t mean it to sound as agitated as it was towards the quiet young man.

Chase looked down at his shoes. “If it helps, they said to tell you they might be out for the next couple a’ days, depending on how things go with the trapping.”

Charles might have started to pull his hair out, if it weren’t for one small detail that hadn’t slipped past him. “But, neither of ‘em hunt, Hilt! What, pray tell, would those two be out trapping for?”

“Oh, they explained it was for something like…er, laken, ly-kun? Uh, wolf-man, or something—is what they’re trapping for, whatever it is.”

Right eyebrow twitching, the barber used up every ounce of self-control he had to refrain from throwing the awaited tantrum. Edward and Alexander were ditching work to hunt down some mythical beast? Why, he ought to fire the two of them straight off the second they set foot in this shop again, he thought, hands gripping the edge of the counter with white-knuckled frustration, dangerously close to snatching up the nearest pair of iron scissors and flinging them like a dart toward the far wall. But despite the growing urge, he only imagined the noise of the iron blades tearing into the wallpaper and wood underneath.

“Mr. Neal? Will you be all right?” Charles snapped out of his fuming state and stood up straight, clearing his throat. It wasn’t the apprentice who deserved his wrath, he reasoned. Standing well away, Chase waited, unsure how his boss would react next. He learned early in his apprenticeship that Mr. Neal had episodes on the daily which were unpredictable. However, if he stayed on Mr. Neal’s good side, he was friendly as can be.

Chase didn’t know which side he stood on at the moment—‘don’t shoot the message man,’ right? To both men’s surprise, Charles’ voice came out calm and reserved. “I’m just fine. Go prop the door open.” He straightened his apron. “With those two gone, I have a feeling we have our work cut out for us today.” 

 

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Neal,” Chase said on his way out. Charles stayed behind, as usual, to make sure everything was in its place and the floor thoroughly swept before locking up. The day hadn’t been so bad in that his apprentice had showed a considerable amount of improvement, and undoubtedly will take the place of either Mr. Coleman or Mr. Punch very soon. However, there were a couple of points where Charles felt the need to walk right out of his own shop for fear of losing his head in front of the customers. Scratch that—at the customers.

Lycan, wolf-man, werewolf, man-beast—you name it. The talk was everywhere, and, even in his safe haven, the poor man couldn’t find peace. But, why did it bother him so much anyhow? Charles only just asked himself this question as soon as the chilly late-afternoon breeze in front of the barbershop could clear his head. So what if the town was convinced a mythical beast walked among them? Why should he feel so much dread? Ugh, all of this confliction was really giving him a headache. It worked away like hammers on his temples. He leaned his forehead against the cold door for some time.

A sudden screech and a whinny from the street behind him caught his attention, and Charles whipped around curiously.

“Watch it, numbskull!” someone driving a one-horse carriage hollered, waving a fist around. On the other side of the horse was a man—a rather tall, bushy-haired man dressed in dingy white and suspenders—dusting himself off. Strapped to his back was a crude-looking guitar of some sort, which the man took special care to protect from the ground and the horse.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll be more wary next time!” the man called back as the driver reined the horse onward around him, muttering curses.

Charles smirked at the scene. It’s little events like these that remind a person that everyone has bad days—was that today’s lesson? He figured so. The barber let his smile linger a bit, unaware that his unwavering gaze would then be met seconds later.

His breath caught. That man was staring back, and walking towards him. Why was this stranger approaching him? Hurriedly? Boy, the fella was tall. Should he try to get away? Charles didn’t know what to do, which ended up leaving him frozen in place and eyes locked on the other pair.

“Hi, there,” the larger man greeted in a warm, knowing voice. A tiny spark of recognition went off in Charles’ brain as soon as the voice hit his ears, but he couldn’t place it. The two were now at a handshake’s distance, and all the barber could do was stare, mouth agape, wondering, sorting through memories. Those big eyes…

The scruffy man cleared his throat amusedly, and gave an awkward head tilt. “Heh, I see you’re trying to remember me. Does this ring a bell?” He held up his hand, palm forward, to reveal the faintest pink scar. “Link?”

A huge grin instinctively spread Charles’ face at the sound of his childhood nickname. “Rhett!” He took the man’s hand and shook it rigorously in both his own. “Good gracious, I haven’t seen you in ages! Where’ve ya been, my brother?”

Rhett laughed at him good-naturedly. “Yeah, I know. I left without giving you proper warning, didn’t I? But hey! I heard you got your dream job, huh? What else’ve I missed?” He motioned at the swirling pillar hanging on the wall as if it were a trophy. “Oh, and when’d you get these, by the way?” Before Charles could stop him, Rhett removed his spectacles from his nose and examined them.

“Give me those.” He swiped them back, giggling in such a way he hadn’t in a very long time. “Say, you wanna see inside? We can warm up—catch up on things.”

“Love to.” Of course, Charles had already unlocked the door and welcomed the man inside. He watched his childhood best friend stroll in and marvel the place; how he took in everything with his fingers in his beard, and his other hand protectively grasping his makeshift guitar strap. The grin that’d crept out of nowhere showed no signs of leaving Charles’ face, and he couldn’t understand why. This long-forgotten feeling he felt now was so strange to him.

“You know, ya did pretty good for yourself, Link.” Rhett flung his guitar around so he could hold it properly and began to strum a simple tune. “O-o-oh, yes he did,” he sang.

“Boy, I tell ya, we’ve got a lot of things to discuss,” Charles commented, unable to remember the past Rhett with a guitar, or even singing skills.

Rhett strummed every string at once and let the tune fade out. “What’cha wanna know, brother?”

“I want to start at the beginning. Where’d you run off to that you didn’t tell me about?” Charles leaned against the nearest counter, and instinctively checked his reflection to see if his hair was messy from the wind. Not that a certain man with practically a lion’s mane for hair would care all that much, right?

“The wilderness, o’ course. Remember I always said I wanted to live in a tree like a hermit?” It did sound familiar.

“Oh, you’re a hermit, then?” He made a conscious decision to look away from the mirror, not wanting to look as if he cared too much.

Rhett chuckled. “You can say that. I personally like to call myself a loner. Got myself a cabin hidden out there no one knows about. Stayed there a long time.” He locked eyes with the spectacled man. “Years gone by-y, and I was so lonely-y-y…” he sang to the picked guitar strings.

“So you’re telling me, you survived out in the wilderness by yourself for years. And suddenly, one day, you just decide you don’t like living alone anymore?”

“The decision was gradual. I already knew in the back of my mind I’d come back to Buies Creek one a’ these days. It’s so odd to think about, but I can swear to you, there’s something about this place that just won’t let me go. Like there’s one thing I’m missin’.” Rhett’s long eyelashes flicked downward solemnly.

“Is that so?” With a mischievous glint in his eye, Charles reached around Rhett to grab a pair of scissors from the counter and chopped the air with them. “Perhaps it’s your sensible side that was tellin’ ya to come back and visit Mister Barber for a trim, eh?” He pointed the blades toward Rhett’s unruly beard with a daring look over his lenses.

Rhett lowered the gripped scissors away from him with a careful hand and returned the look, more amused than anything. Eventually, he broke and said, “All right, all right. I’ll let you snip off the straggly bits, but I don’t want it lookin’ too short, now.” With that, the scruffy man set his instrument to the side, took a seat and held perfectly still, leaving all his trust to ’Mister Barber’.

As he snipped away, Charles took the opportunity to really take in the presence of this man—the best friend he’d ever had, who, years ago, he thought he’d never see again. A lot has changed, it turned out. First off, the man had had nowhere near so much hair before. His smell changed, too; smelled of wood and a cooking fire. Being out in the sun most of the time kept his skin lightly bronzed and dotted with freckles. His hair, as he noted earlier, definitely resembled a lion’s mane. Truly a man of the wild. Charles was suddenly feeling emotional as all sorts of memories came bounding to the forefront of his mind. Back in the good old days when the two were young rowdy boys causing mischief in the town.

They took this time to discuss how ‘Little Link’ became the boss man ‘Mr. Neal’ at his dream job. Rhett seemed impressed by his reputation with the townsfolk, and laughed quite hard when Charles mentioned that his employees call him a tyrant. Rightly so, he soon realized. When Charles finished his beard trimming, the two paused their conversation to marvel at his handiwork. Rhett could never seem to stop stroking it afterwards, which the barber took as a good sign. Their talking continued until what little natural light was left from the window turned dark.

Charles noticed Rhett stare silently out into the black, and started to wonder. “Have you a place to stay the night, brother? Don’t tell me you’re about to try for home in the dark.” The second part was more or less a joke, but the taller man’s reaction caught him off guard.

Clutching his guitar strap, seemingly habitually, Rhett met his look of concern and scoffed to himself for some reason the barber couldn’t pick up. “The dark isn’t the problem, it’s—“ he caught himself before saying more.

“What, Rhett?” Charles’ eyebrows rose, painfully curious. “Tell me.”

The man pursed his lips, his squinted eyes searching for…something within the spectacled man’s. “I trust you, Link,” he said after a pause, nodding.

“Wh—?” Before Charles could question, Rhett grabbed hold of his wrist and tugged him out the door, not bothering to allow the barber to lock up one final time.

“As my best friend and blood brother, you need to know.” His voice became gruff, but Charles couldn’t see his expression in the dark of night. All he could do was allow the large man to guide him along down the empty streets, hoping his blind trust was in the right place.


	2. Chapter 2

The two slunk between buildings, like elusive shadows, on a swift path due westward where the town stopped and the outskirts of the woods began. Even within the shroud of foliage, the man in lead kept at a steady pace further in. Many of the townsfolk lived in a cluster of houses hidden in the trees near there, and Rhett seemed aware of this. Seeing as Rhett wouldn’t answer when he asked why they had to go so far out of sight, Charles began to have second thoughts about going through with this. The man had spent years out in the wilderness by himself, after all; he had to be delusional. At least, that was all the barber could chalk it up to.

Anxious as he may have been, Charles soon found that it was, not the mystery of where he was being led, but the way Rhett chose their path, that began to set him on edge. Unable to see so much as the general black shape of his friend, Charles could only rely on hearing, and what he heard was certainly unnatural. The man…was sniffing. He wouldn’t’ve thought much of it if it were only a short sniffling noise, but the sniffing was consistent, like a bloodhound on the hunt. “What do you smell?” he asked dumbly.

The noise stopped. “Not smelling; sensing. There could be any number of traps set around the area.”

Right. Why didn’t he think of that? “How’re you sensing them?”

“I’ll explain everything soon enough, Link.” There was an unfamiliar edge to Rhett’s voice which shut the oblivious man up, suddenly feeling his first real dose of fear. His hands became shaky as he used his free one to readjust his spectacles knocked askew by the low branches, and pull his scarf closer to his flushed cheeks.

After what seemed like several minutes, the pair stepped into a clearing, and Rhett loosened his hold on the man’s wrist when Charles finally made out the large black mass in front them. Outside the open door Rhett left Charles and disappeared into what he expected was a barn. By the lack of disturbance within, he was reassured it wasn’t in use at the moment. “Light the lantern,” a raspy disembodied voice from inside instructed. Charles jolted to attention, and looked around hopelessly for any general shape which looked vaguely like a lantern. Aha, there it was. He unhooked the object from the wall and felt a handful of matches fall from it. Blast it, no.

Charles dropped to his hands and knees and felt around the soil until he found a single match, and then took up a fist-sized rock to scrape it upon. A horrific sound erupted from within the void of the barn—a mix between a man’s holler and an animalistic yelp—causing Charles’ frightened exhale which blew out the flame. He struck the match again, and held it safely away from his breath. As he listened to the shuffling of hay inside the building, he eventually managed to light the lantern. The bubble of light allowed Charles but a few feet of sight and he felt the tiniest bit comforted to be holding its source. He held his breathe. The shuffling stopped.

Every muscle in Charles’ body ordered him to flee the place as fast as he could, to get back to town and never speak of this night again, to completely erase it from memory for the sake of his sanity. However, something in his mind told him to stay, to go inside and see what the darkness hid. His friend was in there, he reasoned. Thinking only of Rhett, the shaky man went against his body and stepped into the dark with his lantern held up high.

A low rumbling echoed through the room and Charles froze in fear once again. Slow, soft footsteps came towards the meager firelight. It took everything the man had to hold in his outcry when a wolfish muzzle came into view, followed by fierce, stormy eyes which glared into his own. The beast’s massive head reached the height of the man’s. It stuck out a paw into the light to progress closer, ever so slowly as if trying not to alarm the poor trembling man, until it stood within reach of a proper petting. Did it…want to be petted? Charles wondered as the beast lowered its head submissively. He studied its eyes, and recognized the look.

He realized its eyes held a complex human emotion that no regular wolf could feel. At last, Charles got the message. His trembling faded, and he held out his free hand over the wolf’s head. The wolf accepted it and he brushed his fingers through its shaggy, golden brown fur. The coat’s so soft, the man noted, as he passed his hand around the back of one ear and into the scruff of its neck. Charles met the wolf’s friendly eyes again, identifying them. “Rhett…”

Seemingly in confirmation, the wolf whirled around and disappeared into the dark again. Charles would have followed him had he not been given a warning growl to stay away. So he stepped back and waited curiously as another several seconds of scuffling and throaty noises echoed through the barn.

Moments later a familiar tall man in worn clothing replaced Charles’ company in the firelight. “So, um, wha’d’ya think?” Rhett’s voice was gentle and unsure, ready for anything his blood brother might say.

The awestruck feeling which had overtaken him had since been spent, however, and Charles’ response wasn’t anything near what the other man anticipated. “It was all your fault.”

“’Scuse me?”

“How long have you roamed about these woods before coming to see me?” he queried, holding up the lantern close to Rhett’s face and his free hand resting on his hip.

“Well, uh…few days?” Rhett rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Why? ‘Re you offended?”

“Offended, he asks!” Charles dramatized to the shadowed rafters above them, like the very woodwork would know how ignorant a question it was, “Oh, bless the barber’s poor ol’ heart for missin’ his brother so much, he’d get offended if the man waited ‘round a few days ‘afore seein’ him!” The taller man raised an eyebrow at his fitful display. “No. But God forbid the poor barber watches as his entire town get shaken up over eye-witness stories by the bucketful, and turns around to find out his brother is to blame, and feel the slightest offense. And if these witnesses‘re tellin’ the truth, then you also caused property damage!”

Rhett chewed on his lip, trying to fit all the words together. “What the devil are you goin’ on about, Link?”

“Long story short, you caused me a great many headaches the past few days, and I don’t appreciate it.” Charles lifted his chin to the air, turned on his heel, and headed out the way he came. As if he had some place to be and was able to get there.

Knowing he could never attempt to backtrack his way to town by himself, Charles stopped and stood in the middle of the clearing, lantern dropped to the ground. Lethargy came over him then, and he wanted only his bed to bury himself into. Too much had happened so fast that evening. He couldn’t keep up with a clear head. He even wondered if he’d imagined petting the head of a werewolf just moments ago, or if he was stark raving mad like the rest of Buies Creek.

He sensed the other man’s presence coming up beside him, and he sank to the ground, seated with his legs tucked under him. Rhett sank down to his left, holding his guitar out in front of him. The firelight flickered between them.

“Have I lost my mind?” Charles wondered aloud.

Rhett strummed a few chords. “That’s a good question, brother. But I tell you what; I don’t ever remember you so hot-headed and assertive. Whatever happened to that timid li’l runt I remember, Little Link?” At Charles’ expression, he chuckled to himself. “I kid.” He played a soft tune among the cricket chorus.

Charles repositioned himself go get more comfortable in the cold dead grass. He wanted to disappear from this place, and forget this day ever happened. But the constant strumming of the instrument beside him was a bittersweet reminder that he was, indeed, lost in the middle of the forest with his best friend, the werewolf. An impossible reality in the life of a skeptic. He could hardly stomach it.

But if this was his life now, he might as well accept it.

“Go and turn back, Rhett.”

The music paused. “Pardon?”

“Turn back into the wolf.”

“Why do you want me to shift back?”

“I just need to see it again.”

Rhett stared at him for a while, but Charles said no more. “All right.” He swiveled his guitar around his torso and went away. Charles listened intently to the various sounds the man’s shifting induced, wondering just what it’d be like to watch the process happen before him in broad daylight. He should have asked.

Moments later the sounds echoing through the building faded out, and the barber got to his feet, took up the lantern, and returned to the barn. The wolf met him in the dark as slowly and gently as it did before, and he took that moment to really get a good look at the beast. What fraction of it he could see in the limited firelight, anyway. That’s peculiar, Charles then thought, wasn’t the werewolf in the eye-witness’ stories supposed to resemble a man? Shouldn’t it have stood on two legs, and have arms capable of tearing doors off their hinges? None of the stories Charles overheard told of a wolf the size of three standing on top of each other.

Did the town see something entirely different? Or were they making up the stories after all, like Charles believed to be the case all along? Oh, here we go again—he felt another headache coming on.

Seeing the man’s pained expression, the wolf inched closer until it could forcibly put its head underneath the palm of Charles’ free hand. The man granted it a petting on the head as its—Rhett’s—big, stormy blue eyes gazed into his with a longing which Charles tried to interpret. “What?”

The wolf yipped quietly and took Charles’ sleeve cuff between its teeth, tugging it in the direction it came from. The man understood and let Rhett guide him to the other end of the barn with his teeth. Charles held up the lantern until it spotlighted a square stall. Inside were Rhett’s clothes and guitar, a sheep’s wool blanket, and a mess of rotting hay. Didn’t exactly read as a comfortable bed-place to the barber. But as he watched the wolf go in and curl up in the corner, he felt obliged to do the same. He took a seat in front of Rhett’s belly and leaned back gently into the thick coat. “You’re so soft, Rhett. What do you do, brush?”

Under his head the wolf’s belly reverberated, and a low guttural sound escaped between its jaws, as if it were laughing at him. “Seriously, now, I don’t understand. I would’ve never expected a werewolf to be nothing more than a giant house pet.”

Rhett then surprised the man with a sudden snarl, every single one of his teeth glinting in the lantern’s light. It was blatantly obvious the wolf was anything but a harmless house pet. “All right, brother, I get the message!” Charles threw up his hands, unable to stifle the laugh that came out unintentionally. Rhett licked his chops and lowered his head to the ground beside the man’s leg. Charles stroked the scruff of his neck, where the longest of the wolf’s fur grew. It didn’t take long for him to realize that if he scratched in a certain place, it would cause Rhett’s entire head to twitch. He kept going back to that spot until he felt the wolf’s hind leg lift behind him and scratch the air involuntarily. This made the man giggle for a long while.

Eventually, the two settled down to the point that they could again hear the chorus of crickets outside. Just when Charles’ eyelids began to droop, his mind snapped to attention. “Hold on. My shop!”

Rhett shot his giant head up at the man’s outburst.

Charles sighed. “I guess it’s too late to head on back now. And look,” he motioned to his clothing, which happened to be his work clothes, “they’re filthy! I could never walk into work like this.”

Unable to speak vocally in his wolf form, Rhett just licked his lips in response, and then lay back down.

“You’re right. We’ll worry about it in the morning,” Charles agreed, loosening his scarf and removing his spectacles to put them in a safe place. “Had I known we were gonna camp out in an old barn tonight, I would’ve better prepared myself.”

The wolf took the sheep’s wool blanket in its teeth and presented it to him.

“I know, Rhett. I should hush up and get to sleep, shouldn’t I?” Charles took the blanket from the wolf and curled up to the warm belly under him. “Sweet dreams, brother.”

He flinched when the wolf lolled its tongue and licked him full in the face. “Ah, yuck!” And Rhett laughed at him in his wolfish way.


	3. Chapter 3

Dawn’s light stretched into the furthest reaches of the barn to find, in the last open stable, a bundle of fur and wool. A man and beast, wrapped tightly together for warmth and comfort against the cruel frigid air of morning. The beast’s sensitive eyes picked up on the growing light and they fluttered open, glancing around the space to familiarize himself. He raised his head from his paws to look down at the wool cocoon propped up on his belly. Inside that cocoon rested his best friend, a raven-haired man who slept with his mouth gaping open.

Rhett reached his nose toward the man’s hand which stuck out of the blanket and nudged it. In response, the hand disappeared under the cover, somehow sending the other hand flinging in out of nowhere and whacked the wolf over the muzzle. The man had tossed to his side, evidently unaware of his fault toward Rhett’s now buzzing nose. The wolf shook his massive head and abandoned his plan to wake his stubborn Link.

Instead, Rhett did his best to slip out from under him without accidentally conking the man’s head on the floor, and eventually got to his paws without consequence. He felt as well as heard his stomach rumble thunderously, reminding him that the two had skipped suppertime last night. Unusual for such a gluttonous beast as he.

Looking back at his brother, now curled up all the tighter with the absence of Rhett’s body heat, Rhett figured he’d be back before the man even knew he’d gone. He trotted out of the barn, then, at the edge of the forest, ran at full speed, his heart and belly dead set on the hunt for breakfast.

***

Charles stirred under the wool cover and felt the floor around him curiously. Wait a second, he thought, this wasn’t his mattress; this was wood—stinking wood. He shot his eyes open and found himself lying flat on a floor of scattered old hay. Oh, confound it! It wasn’t only a dream. The man griped under his breath as he stood and dusted himself off. Not only were there hay pieces sticking to him, but blond-brown hair, too. Of course his werewolf friend would be a horrible shedder.

Then, all of his thoughts were overridden by a sudden waft of some pleasant aroma. He sniffed the air, his mouth watering, and recognized the smell of cooking meat. Putting on his spectacles and tightening his scarf round his neck in the chilly morning air, Charles walked out the wide open door.

What greeted him first was the smoke, which he followed around the corner to find a small fire contained in a grass-less area of the clearing. The man behind the fire twirled a stick of meat over its flame, humming to himself, until he looked up at his brother’s approach.

“Mornin’, Link,” Rhett greeted cheerfully. His already wild hair was a mess and his limbs were covered in forest filth, but his clothing seemed relatively clean.

Charles sat opposite him near the flame’s comfortable heat. “Morning. What kind’a meat is that?”

“Rabbit.” The cheery man removed the stick from the flame and placed it on top of a makeshift plate, steamy and tempting in both the men’s nostrils.

“You think that’s enough for the both of us? I mean, I know how much you love eatin’ an’ all.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry ‘bout sharin’. This is all for you.” Rhett shot him a smile.

“Aren’t ya hungry?”

“I ‘ardy hunted for myself, Link. Saved the last catch for you.”

Charles nodded. Of course that’s what he would’ve done. He took the large piece of tree bark which Rhett used for his plate and dug in carefully with his fingers. Unseasoned rabbit never tasted so good.

When he finished, Rhett got to his feet and said, “Now, let’s head for the creek.”

“Why, so we can give this dirty dog a bath?” Charles poked fun of his appearance.

“Yeah, right. Also b’cause it’s good for ya to drink water after eating,” Rhett snapped back.

Now that he’d mentioned it, Charles’ throat was starting to feel sore from lack of hydration. He threw the bark into the dying fire before Rhett stomped it out, and the pair left the clearing.

Naturally, Rhett fell into the role of line leader as he relied upon his “sensing” technique as his pathfinder, leaving the barber to stay in his shadow, wondering just how this sensing worked. And this was the perfect time that he could finally ask, he realized.

“I don’t think I can explain it in a way you’d understand, since you can’t experience it,” the taller man hedged, “It’s just one of those things I learned I could do after my first shift.” He shrugged.

“What, so I don’t get an answer?”

“It’s like…when a dog knows a big storm’s brewin’ before the clouds even show. A human can’t hope to understand it; the dog just knows.”

Charles guessed that was all he was going to get out of him with that question. But that wouldn’t stop him from asking more. “So, when was your first shift? What was it like?”

“You’re making it difficult to focus.” His tone hinted that he would say no more, but, after a long silence and a direction change, he said, “My first shift was almost a huge disaster. Was also the main reason I left Buies Creek. And why I didn’t give ya warning, because I knew you would’ve demanded everything outta me. Since you had no intentions of leaving, I couldn’t give away my secret. And I didn’t wanna lie to you.” His pace slowed, distracted by thought.

“I always felt bad for not tellin’ you good-bye.” Charles’s head snapped up in surprise at Rhett’s sudden note of melancholy. “But I thought I couldn’t afford to go through with it back then. Had to slip out without makin’ a big deal over it.”

After fitting Rhett’s every detail into place, Charles was stunned. This was a huge revelation. And everything back in the day was put into proper perspective. With the disappearance of his blood brother, the barber had become unforgivably bitter towards others, finding it near impossible to give his trust to anyone again. He became exceptionally independent, with an unnatural amount of ambition to “make it” all by himself. This was how he wound up in the very position he wanted in the workplace, the best of the best at his craft, because his life was his work. All because he was trying to uphold his end of the oath, which, until yesterday, he had deemed severed. 

“Ahh!” In his loss of focus, Charles stumbled over an outcrop and landed hard on his hands on a lower level of ground. Rhett turned around and couldn’t help but laugh as he gave the man a hand.

“Watch your step, brother. You might land in something you don’t want.”

“Hah-hah,” he mocked, his mood killed. He blew on the minor scrapes on his palms.

Their walk through the endless woods continued in relative silence for what felt like hours to the barber. Though, in reality, the sun had only climbed about a finger’s length in the sky by the time Rhett’s heightened senses told them they were close to water. Pretty soon, Charles could hear the lapping of river water over rocks.

“There it is.” Rhett pointed down a ravine at the source of the sound. “Careful comin’ down here, Link,” he then warned, “There’s something I’m picking up that I don’t know what it is. It’s faint, though, so it may be far off.” Now having been made paranoid, Charles took extra care stepping down into the ravine alongside the larger man.

Safe. Charles walked up to the edge of the bank and simply dipped his stinging palms into the frigid water. Of course, the two wasted no time satiating their thirst. They were beyond parched.

“Boy! I tell ya… Nothin’ beats this,” Rhett voiced his satisfaction. “Would’ve been a heckofa lot quicker had I shifted first, though.”

“But what about me? Would ya put me on your back an’ have me ride ya like a horse?”

Rhett chuckled at the idea. “Maybe something like that. I mean, I never been mounted before, so…” He raised an eyebrow and smirked at his friend. At Charles’ blush, the man laughed all the harder.

“Seriously, now. We should try that. What other use do you have, being a beast the size of a horse?”

Nodding, Rhett agreed. “Could be fun. Later, though.” He stood up. “You plannin’ on bathing?”

“Uhh…Rhett, the water’s freezing. Ain’t no way either of us are bathing in this.” Charles stood, too, hands on his hips.

To the shorter man’s surprise, Rhett dismissed him. “Ah, so you never skinny-dipped in a river on a cold morning. You never lived.”

“Don’t you remember that time, back when we were kids, when we tried swimmin’ in freezing water? We almost died that day!” Charles argued stubbornly.

“Because we weren’t prepared for how deep it happened to be. Come on, Link. I promise I’ll not let anything happen to you. Ya trust me?”

He was serious, Charles realized. Unbelievable. They stared at each other for a long minute, neither backing down.

Rhett sighed, as if he were hurt by his friend’s decision. “All right, brother. Guess I’m goin’ in alone.” He started away, upstream, already shedding his long-sleeved shirt.

Was the man insane? Wasn’t he worried that his body temperature might drop too low? That his extremities might freeze off? That he might fall ill afterward? “I can’t believe I’m doing this…” Charles mumbled under his breath as he followed along Rhett’s course upstream, loosening his clothes.

***

Chase strode up to the front door of the barbershop as hurriedly as he could. He mentally kicked himself for having overslept and almost making himself late, hoping to goodness the topic wouldn’t come up with his mentor upon walking in. But once he reached for the knob, he realized the door was already cracked open. That’s funny, he thought, Mr. Neal would never crack the door open like this on a cold day. Dismissing it as an accident, he stepped inside and took a look around the wide room. The shop was empty.

There was a chance his boss could be in the back room and hadn’t heard him come in. “Mr. Neal?” the apprentice called. But no one came out of the back room to answer.

Then something most interesting caught his eye. On the counter, beside the first of a row of mirrors, sat Mr. Neal’s hat. The man went up and took it in his hands, at a loss for words.

By this time poor Chase began to pace around like a lost puppy. He knew all about Charles Neal, that he was a very particular man with a particular routine, and that he’d never stray from it. As he once explained to the younger man, Mr. Neal had found what he called the most “optimal” way of doing things. There was nothing optimal about leaving his hat behind and the front door unlocked and open for anyone to walk in.

Something was seriously wrong, but the apprentice no idea what to do. It was almost like his boss had simply dissolved into thin air.

As if summoned by Chase’s dismay, two gentlemen walked past the front window and appeared in the door. “’Ey, Hilt’s here. How’s it goin’ with the apprenticeship, Hilt?” Edward greeted. He and Alexander were dressed, not in their work clothes, but in outdoor attire. Chase expected the two were still in the middle of their trapping business, whatever that entailed. Had Mr. Neal been there at the moment, he’d have driven them out straight away, no doubt. “Where’s the boss man, by the way?”

Chase shook his head. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I walk in this morning to find the door’s open, the shop’s empty, and his hat left on the counter. But there’s no sign of him anywhere.”

“What? That’s impossible! The boss man’d never pull a joke as clever as this,” Alexander said lightheartedly. Edward ribbed him and joined in the laughter.

“This isn’t funny, boys. I fear Mr. Neal can very well be missing,” the apprentice stated defensively.

The two sobered up. “So, you wanna send out a search party for ‘im or something?”

“Or, you know what; I know what it is. It’s the man-beast at it again, snatchin’ up innocent townspeople in the dark of night.” When Chase shot him a dirty look, Alexander added, “I ain’t jokin’ this time. I heard it’s happened before.”

“Well, good thing we set all those traps then, eh?” Edward said. “Especially ‘round my property.”

The poor apprentice didn’t know what to think anymore. This whole man-beast talk seemed a little far-fetched and lacking in a reliable source. But at this point, anything was better than sitting around the shop wondering. These two seemed to be his only source for help.

“Okay, listen, boys. Say what you said was true; what would we do to help it?”

The gentlemen looked at each other, then back at him. “Just sit around and hope our traps work, I dunno. But, prolly by then, the beast would’a eaten the boss man alive.” Edward’s voice was much too casual for the words. Chase had trouble interpreting his words as a joke, as ridiculous as they sounded.

“There’s always getting Miss Levine to hunt it down,” Alexander suggested.

“The bounty hunter? She catches outlaws, not beasts.”

“But who else is better at finding people than Miss Levine?”

“Ya got a point there. But will she accept the job?”

“If we bribe ‘er with enough of a reward, she will.”

“Well, do you have that kind’a money?”

“No. Do you have that kind’a money?”

“No. Then it’s settled.” The two shook hands, as if a deal had been made that the apprentice missed.


	4. Chapter 4

Even as the sun neared its highest point, its warmth could do little to subdue what Charles knew was about to come. The two men stood at the bank of a particularly deep section of the stream. Its gentle current allowed for swimming as well as simply wading and washing. Seemed safe enough in the spectacled man’s eyes, except, of course, the temperature—no matter how many times Rhett argued that bathing in cold water was perfectly safe. So long as you can adapt.

“Well, I’m certainly not goin’ in nekkid,” Charles grumbled. At a safe distance away from the sloshing water were the man’s belongings, save for his drawers, which he refused to discard following his trousers. He felt ridiculous even then. Rhett, on the other hand, stood beside his friend completely and unashamedly exposed. When the other man brought this up, Rhett reminded him that they have indeed run around in the nude together before, years ago as that may have been. And that was the end of it.

“Are we goin’ in or not?” the man who wasn’t shivering asked impatiently.

“I’m not gettin’ in ‘til you’re in there. Far in there.”

“All right-y.” Rhett stepped into and gradually disappeared under the current. His body never betrayed him by flinching, much to Charles’ surprise. Soon the man’s body could go no further under, the highest surface of the water coming up to his shoulder blades. “There, I’m as far as I can get. Now get in.”

Charles forced his bare feet forward obediently and came in contact with the water, its chill like pinpricks. An involuntary, high-pitched moan escaped him. This man really was insane, he repeated to himself. But, somewhere in the back of his mind, Charles knew he wanted to do it, too. Whether it was to prove his true grit or his devotion to his friend, or neither, he couldn’t tell. Either way, he’d already stripped his clothing and gotten his feet wet—there was no backing out, so he conjured up all the willpower he had left to go deeper.

Toes hit the mud practically frozen and scraped the jutting rocks half-buried. Everything in that moment defied against the man as if telling him he shouldn’t naturally be there. It became too much once Charles hit the waistline and he couldn’t bring himself to move, forward or back.

Rhett caught onto this as he watched intently, and came back towards him with hands held out. “Need some help, there?” As much as the poor barber resented him at that moment, he knew Rhett was his only buoy at this point. Charles allowed the man to grasp his hands, and he held on to them as if for dear life. “Come on, brother. Follow me, one step at a time,” the man coached. Hands death-gripped together, Charles somehow made his legs work onward through the slimy and sharp creek bed underneath, deeper into the cold which screamed to him to stay out. And then, unbelievably, he found himself nearly neck-deep when Rhett unclasped their hands under the water.

“See? You made it! I’m proud ‘a ya, Link.” Rhett gently slapped and shook his shoulder which barely protruded from the water, as if what Charles had done, he’d done without any of his help. However, in truth, Charles may as well have been a corpse inside a block of ice. “You okay?”

Unclamping his mouth caused his teeth to chatter. “G-get aw-way from m-me, you-u f-f-freak-k.” Charles knew his voice betrayed him despite the words.

“You know, Link,” Rhett went on matter-of-factly, “in situations like this, it’s a good idea to share body heat.”

“Bu-ut th-there is-s no—” Charles was immediately shut up when Rhett suddenly pulled him close into an embrace. The sheer shock of the skin contact of their torsos underneath the water overwhelmed him. The action felt simultaneously pleasant, as a flow of warmth and energy transferred into his skin, and wrong, for a multitude of other different reasons. He stared past Rhett’s shoulder with glazed eyes. “N-ng, uh-u-um.” His brain was too stunned to correctly form the words.

The larger man kept to firm hold around the back of his friend for a time before freeing him. Charles never would’ve let himself confirm it, but the noise he made when his skin pulled away was one of loss instead of relief. “Feel better?” Rhett asked, unfazed.

“N-no.” Except Charles knew that was a lie. And by the way his voice went up in the end, Rhett could see through the denial, too. He smirked at the poor conflicted man.

“’Kay, well, I’m gonna go under to try to get all this muck off ‘a me. This stuff is caked like ya wouldn’t believe.” Rhett ran his fingers through his bird’s nest of a hairstyle.

“And-d I’ll be ov-ver there, away f-from you,” Charles pointed to a rock jutting out of the water. But his words didn’t have the desired effect, as Rhett still held the trace of a smile. He then watched the man disappear under the surface. There was no way of knowing where the man swam since the water was all froth and murk, so Charles waded his way carefully over to said rock trying to avoid him.

Coming out of the water just might’ve been worse than going in, he realized, as he lifted himself onto the rock to sit upon. His shivering and teeth chattering redoubled; his skin a bright shade of red. But none of this compared to the numbness that his brain was recovering from. What was with that man today? What was with himself?

He tried to get his mind off of it by splashing water onto his limbs and scrubbing them hard with his still-stinging hands. Refusing to submerge his head, the man reasoned that he would wash his hair as soon as he could take a proper bath in a tub. His always-filthy beast of a best friend was the only one out here to see his disgracefully grimy hair anyway.

The reminder of home made Charles forget everything else for the moment. His nice and clean, simple homelife was out there waiting for him—a warm bath, a comfortable bed, a well-seasoned meal. And his shop, worst of all! Left abandoned with no one to man it! Oh, no, how could he have let Rhett talk him into staying out here any longer? He had responsibilities to get back to.

Then Charles reminded himself that it was, in fact, his own fault that he’d stuck around without a second thought. It was he who dumbly followed everything Rhett put him through, like some leashed pet. And for what? Because they were friends now suddenly back together? That certainly couldn’t’ve been the whole of the reason.

There was something else. Something which Charles couldn’t pinpoint for the life of him, that kept him there. It was the thing that told him to go into the barn to meet Rhett’s secret, instead of running away in fear. It was the thing that also told him that he wanted to go into the freezing water after Rhett’s lead, instead of staying warm and dry on the bank.

None of this made any coherent sense, Charles told himself. The cold must be getting to him. The circumstances making him stupid. And thinking it through only raised more questions, so the man forced his mind to clear itself for the time being. The only thing to do now was to make his way back to town.

“You okay over here, Link?” Charles jumped and almost fell from the rock when Rhett popped out of the water right in front of him. “Ya look a little green.” The man rested his forearms on the rock beside his legs and stared up at him in concern.

“I’m f-fine.”

“I think it’s time we get goin’, then. You really don’t look very good. Here, I know what we can do.” He swam up to the bank, got to his feet, and shook himself off like a dog. “Come on out and get dressed, Link. I’ll be right back.” He then ran off downstream. Charles didn’t watch too closely, so he had no idea where Rhett was going. But he obeyed and eventually walked downstream after him, fully clothed and spectacled, still shivering uncontrollably.

When he found his friend again, he was surprised to find him in his wolf form. The golden-brown wolf crouched low to the ground with Rhett’s clothes hanging from his mouth. When Charles approached him with a questioning look, he motioned to his backside with his snout and then stared back at the man. “What, are we trying the mounting thing now?” The wolf made a muffled yip, which he took as a yes.

Unsure now that the opportunity was presented to him, Charles came up to Rhett’s bulk and tentatively swung his leg over the other side. Huge mistake. The wolf lifted himself up to his full, towering height before the man was ready, and Charles yelped, wrapping his arms around the thick, scruffy neck tightly. His stomach churned. Having no saddle or reins, he didn’t know how he could hope to hold on if Rhett decided to go any faster than maybe a trot. “Now, listen here, Rhett. If you drop me, I’ll…I’ll pluck every last hair outta that beard ‘a yours.”

Rhett woofed.

“Okay… I’m ready,” Charles breathed after situating himself.

Wasting no time, Rhett bounded away, following the current alongside them. And poor Charles, now feeling sick as a dog, cried out in horror and anger all the while. Had the wolf’s neck been any smaller around, Charles would’ve suffocated him. Rhett then slowed to a steadier pace and his rider huffed. “Don’t do that again, ya hear me.”

An idea came to Rhett’s head, and he spat out his clothing that he carried in his jaws, picked up the suspenders, and turned his head back to the man to present them. “What? You want me to use these?” Charles took the suspenders, and then figured out Rhett’s idea. He wrapped the leather around the wolf’s head and Rhett took the section in front of him in his mouth, like the bit of a bridle, and Charles took up the ends in his hands, like split reins. It was far from perfect, but the man felt a great deal more confident now that he held onto something that wasn’t fur.

They tried again. The wolf started off slow for the sake of his rider, and gradually quickened to his initial speed. Charles gripped the leather ends close to his chest, leaning forward near Rhett’s shoulders, and surprised himself with a triumphant giggle. Was he actually enjoying this? As much as riding bareback on a wolf turned out to be a little painful as one could imagine, he had to say that he was. “Onward, steed!” he cheered.

***

A trio of horses clopped down a narrow dirt path, two of their riders chatting away about the lack of signs outside the borders of town and how useful they’d be right about then. The three gentlemen had been on the hunt for a certain house all afternoon and on the brink of giving up the idea altogether. But, after many wrong turns and dead ends, they had a stroke of luck and finally found the place they were looking for. Sure didn’t look like much from the outside, the men agreed as they approached the vine-covered front door.

Mr. Coleman knocked hard on the wood and stood back, but only a long-stretching silence greeted them. He turned back to his companions questioningly, and Mr. Punch assured him that this was undoubtedly the place they needed to be. With that, he shrugged and went up to knock again.

But before Mr. Coleman’s fist could hit the wood, a small rectangular section of it was slid away, making a peak-hole to the other side. He, Mr. Punch, and Mr. Hilt went up to it to peer inside, overly curious.

“What do you want?” a woman’s voice ordered from within, startling them. The voice seemed rather disinterested, or maybe annoyed.

“Uh, yes, ma’am. Name’s Coleman, and I’m here with my associates, Punch and Hilt. We’re wonderin’ if we could ask for your help to track down someone for us.” By the sudden incompetence in his voice, Mr. Hilt knew the man had no idea what he was doing.

“Is this someone a wanted criminal?” she asked.

“Well, no, but he is wanted.” Was he serious? Hilt thought.

“You’re asking me to track down a missing person,” the woman huffed. “Just how did this person of yours get lost?”

“Ah, right.” Mr. Coleman scratched his head. “See, Hilt here claims he disappeared during the night. There one day and gone the next.”

“Do you have suspicions of how or why this disappearance happened?”

“Punch an’ I’re convinced it was an abduction—“ Hilt covered his face in his hands.

“Abduction,” the woman repeated, now sounding interested. “I’ll need a name and physical description of the missing person.”

“Charles Neal. Tall, skinny man, in his thirties, I think. Has dark, curly hair. Wears specs. Usually in a bowtie or scarf,” he listed off. “Always has an irritated expression.”

After a pause she asked, “Does Neal have enemies?”

Mr. Punch snickered behind him. “Not that we know of.”

“Who do you suspect is behind the abduction, then, if he has no enemies?”

The three men exchanged looks. Hilt shook his head, but Mr. Coleman ignored him. “A beast.”


	5. Chapter 5

Muddy paws romped over the leagues of dead leaves littering the likewise dead wood, the beast unfaltered after hiking back up the ravine with the added weight. He seemed confident in his pathfinding this time around, the man noticed about the wolf, for lack of use of his sniffing method. As if he were following a well-marked trail.

Curious, Charles continued, how the path they were taking was headed in a completely different direction from which they came. He felt foolish for not taking note of this sooner. Engrossed in the fun new experience of wolfback riding, he’d completely lost all sense of time, seeing as the sun was now nearing the far horizon, painting the sky orange and blue. Now sobered from his elation, the situation alarmed him. Where in the world was Rhett taking him? This certainly wasn’t the way back to town. They would have been there by then.

The invasive worries of getting home straight away and picking up his utmost important duties had then taken over his mind once again. What all had happened while he was gone? How had his fellow townsfolk responded to his unannounced absence? And, most disconcerting of all, how will he explain it all once he did get back?

Oh, the poor, grumpy, once-skeptical barber, Mr. Neal, having been plucked right out of his normal small-town life by the very mythical being which he scoffed at the idea of! He couldn’t actually come back affirming the people’s claims, could he? Not just for the sake of his pride, but for the safety of his best friend’s identity being kept under wraps. Heaven knows what the people will do once they find themselves a real abductee returned from the werewolf’s—for all they knew—malicious possession. Charles had a feeling he knew exactly what they’d do.

No matter the consequence, he had to return. Now, whether it be on the back of his werewolf brother or all by himself.

Charles pulled back on the leather straps in his hands as hard as he could, and Rhett slowed to a sudden stop. He turned his massive head back to shoot a questioning look at his rider, the reins yanked out of Charles’ grasp.

“This isn’t the way home. Where are you taking me?” the man demanded calmly.

The wolf’s ears lowered and his panting mouth clamped shut. Charles knew the guilty look of a dog, and Rhett wore it. It was clear he hadn’t intended to take the man back just yet.

“So I thought.” The barber slid off the beast’s back, and quickly took full notice of the soreness between his legs. He rubbed the inside of his thighs. “Where ever you were headed, I can’t go with you.”

Rhett dropped his belongings from his mouth and stuck his overwhelming head just in front of his brother’s face, flashing his ever so dark and stormy eyes in a way a pleading animal would. Charles clasped both sides of his scruff. Naturally, he knotted his fingers into the long, soft fur. “Now, you goin’ ‘a take me home this time?”

This might’ve been the last thing the wolf wanted to be asked. Rhett let out a whine unashamedly and lifted his muzzle up to lick the tip of Charles’ nose. The man flinched from it. “Eugh. Why ya gotta do that, brother?” But he could only continue to pet and scratch idly. His fingers slid down to the bottom of Rhett’s long jaw, lifted it up to him again, and returned the favor on the wolf’s big, cold wet nose. Didn’t taste as bad as he expected, actually.

Rhett only reacted with a tilt of his head and lolled his tongue like a dog fixed in fascination. But his affectionate behavior was abruptly replaced with one of alertness. He turned, sniffing, ears pricked.

“What is it, Rhett?” Charles leaned into him and scanned the forest in the direction which the wolf’s eyes were focused. He caught movement from far off. Squinting through his spectacles, he tried to make it out, and then exclaimed, “It’s a horseman! They’re looking for me.”

Before the wolf could stop him, the man took off in a run to track down the mysterious horse and rider as they disappeared as quickly as they came. “I’m here! Over here!” Charles hollered through the dead woods, too frantic to get winded. He couldn’t lose them!

After a couple of minutes of all running and yelling, the man realized he couldn’t see the horse anymore, and couldn’t hope to try to follow something he couldn’t see. But he was so close! His search party was out there, he convinced himself. His run never slowed.

Behind him Charles heard Rhett’s barks of alarm chasing after him. He didn’t care to heed them.

Next thing he knew he was tumbling. The ground sloped dangerously narrowly, never allowing him to stop, until he’d reached the pit. And in the pit, he was met with agonizing pain.

Charles’ cry echoed through the woods. Something was piercing his right hand! He moaned unintelligibly, his breath as shaky as the rest of his body. Eyes squeezed shut, he put all focus in simply breathing and staying still as possible, as the shooting pain hindered any other brain processes.

“Link! Liiink!” he heard a distant, familiar voice shout.

Seconds later, a man only clad in torn trousers slid carefully down the slope and rushed over to him. He babbled to himself in a tone full of regret and worry. Charles felt the man readjust his searing right arm, causing him to moan even louder. “Oh, brother,” the man said to him, “I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I’ll get ya outta here; just stay calm.” His arm was moved once more which shot another wave of unbearable pain through him. “Just need to stop the blood flow, all right?”

Charles’ breath hitched at the words. He dared open his eyes to see metal teeth sunk deep into the middle of his right hand. Out of it flowed streams of dark red webbing into each other and dripping off into a pool in the soil. The sight was enough to send the poor barber’s eyes rolling back into his head.

***

Miss Levine reined her horse at a steady gallop onward to Buies Creek. The news she bore wasn’t going to please her clients, but it needed to be told—matters such as this needed to be dealt with by a council, not a bounty hunter as she.

The sight couldn’t be wiped from the woman’s mind; it was utterly inconceivable. She had already been well acquainted with the idea that she’d have to hunt down a beast of folklore in order to locate the missing man. This wasn’t the first case, after all. But…these once-believed-to-be mythical beasts were to be feared. They were dangerous and should be killed when they show themselves.

What she’d seen went against this unspoken law. A man—the “abducted” Mr. Charles Neal, she believed—and the beast, undoubtedly a werewolf in shift judging by its monstrous size, showing affection towards one another. This Charles Neal was never abducted. He was somehow connected to the vile beast.

***

Charles stirred from his unconsciousness. He tried to focus on his surroundings after blinking several times, but the only thing he could really make out was a low flame some distance away. A cold sweat clung to his forehead, and his hair was messily thrown about on the comfortable surface under his head. Unable to tell his location, he counted the things he did know: He was lying down somewhere coarse yet warm and pleasant. His scarf, spectacles, overcoat, button-up shirt, and boots were all missing from his body. There were wrappings all around his right hand which rested atop his bare chest. And it hurt like the devil.

“You’re awake,” a low voice soothed from somewhere around him. “How ya feelin’, brother?”

Charles’ eyes came into focus as a dark figure, haloed by the fire behind it, approached him at the side of the—mattress? Feather sack, maybe. He couldn’t decide what he lay upon. Absent-mindedly, he grunted his answer to the question asked him.

“I take it you’re just bearing it at this point, huh?” the haloed figure went on. His voice was so…sincere? Oh, what was the right word? Charles’ head hurt from thinking about it. “Think ya can stomach some supper?”

Supper. Charles tried to remember the last time he ate. Whenever it was, his belly told him it was well past time he ate another meal. He nodded, and the other man went away again. He then lifted himself up to a sitting position with his good hand. Without his spectacles, the place was hard to study, as any detail was blurred out. After much contemplation, he reasoned that he was resting inside a stranger’s house, since the interior wasn’t familiar.

The other man came back with a steaming bowl in hand. “I made some stew, Link. See how you like it.”

It then processed in his brain that the man had called him by his informal name. Charles stared hard into the shadowed face of the man. Memory after memory snapped back to him as he tried to figure out his situation. The man before him was the same man who came to his rescue at the bottom of the slope, where he’d been ensnared and fainted from the blood. He was the one who’d lured him into the woods, into the barn, into the water. And he’d followed loyally, as if all those years of severed contact had been forgotten.

Rhett dipped a very marred spoon into the bowl and then put the spoonful in Charles’ mouth. Charles figured this was because he only had one good, albeit shaky, hand, and not because the other man just wanted to feed him. Rhett watched as he tossed the biteful of stew around in his mouth. The raven-haired man made a face, not expecting the flavor of many mysterious kinds of meat boiled in some unknown liquid. It certainly could use some diced vegetables, some seasoning, and less meat. But it was the only food apparently available, so he forced himself to take all the man gave him for the sake of his hunger.

When the bowl was scraped empty, Rhett set it aside and took a seat on the feather mattress beside Charles, his hands on his thighs. He suddenly switched his protective and caring appearance for one of remorse. “I really am sorry, brother. It wasn’t s’posed to work out this way.”

Charles stared at his orange-tinted profile long and hard, wondering just which part of this mess he was so sorry about. He opened his mouth to speak for the first time. “No, it wasn’t,” he agreed.

The bearded man turned to look at him.

“I wasn’t s’posed to disappear suddenly from Buies Creek. I wasn’t s’posed to ever learn your secret. And I wasn’t s’posed to end up here, wherever we are.” Charles rubbed the red-stained wrappings on his hand defiantly, feeling the teared skin underneath react to the touch with a grimace.

Rhett returned the pained expression. “I guess I shouldn’t’ve waited as long as I did.” He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Tell ya the truth, I don’t know what I should do anymore. Everything has a consequence, turns out.”

Charles gritted his teeth as they studied each other. He didn’t know whether to be furious or to simply agree with his last statement. After a long, tense silence he finally decided to bring up the thing he was chewing on, “Were you ever planning on taking me back?”

“No.” The man shook his head which hung in guilt.

“Why not?”

Another pause. “It may sound petty an’ childish to you, but… I needed you to run away with me, to put it simply.” His head lowered even further, like a dog waiting to be scolded.

Charles could only blink, not knowing what to make of his answer. “Now, why would I do that?” his voice was covered in frustration.

“I tried to ignore it. Have been for years, ‘cause I know you had a life set up for yourself an’ all,” Rhett explained. “But the longer I put it behind me, the stronger the sense hit me when I came too close to home. It pulled at me like a rope tied ‘round my neck.” He wiped his palms on his trousers and tugged on his beard, now avoiding eye contact. “I know you don’t deserve this. But, Link, you’re bound to me.”

A huff escaped Charles’ lips. Did he know just how absurd he sounded? What in the world could he mean?

“I didn’t think the oath held much significance at the time. Reckon you didn’t, either. But now…” He sighed. “S’like an invisible chain between us, an’ it can only stretch so far.” He dared to look at his friend in the eye again and shrugged.

As if all their problems had been answered. Charles glared back at him, shaking his head. “You’ll take me back to Buies Creek. First thing in the morning.”

The bearded man knitted his eyebrows together at his order. Then a hint of defiance appeared on his face as well. “You know I could rip you apart and eat your remains if I wanted to, right?”

“No, you couldn’t, Rhett.” Charles said it as if it were as blatantly true as fire was hot.

And the man couldn’t argue. He dropped his fierce mask and looked again to the floor.

“First thing in the morning.”


	6. Chapter 6

The bounty hunter set foot into town at the crack of dawn, both her and her horse tired and sluggish from the all-night ride from the deep reaches of the woods. Her presence in the streets piqued the interest of the earliest rising folks making their rounds. The term ‘bad omen’ may have reached her ears in passing more than once.

The woman soon recognized one of her clients seated on the stoop of the barbershop and she reined in her horse. The young man looked up in surprise and greeted her respectfully. Miss Levine wasted no time with pleasantries. She shared every piece of information she had with the man, who she remembered being called Mr. Hilt, and advised him that the matter was best taken up by Town Hall.

Mr. Hilt, dumbfounded, wished her well as Miss Levine vanished as fast as she appeared. Her news didn’t sit right in the man’s stomach. Could her claims really be true? And were they worth repeating to the town sheriff, as unbelievable as they sounded in his ears? He imagined Buies Creek’s authorities laughing him right out of Town Hall. Then again, Hilt thought, they could very well believe it along with the rest of the townsfolk already.

But he needed to tell Coleman and Punch first. Let them be laughed out of Town Hall if it came to that.

***

Light of a grey early morning slipped through the shudders’ slits overhead, with it carrying a flow of frosty air. Underneath lay the two, huddled together atop the mattress. Having been awake for most of the night and into the morning, Rhett kept his drowsy eyes on the face of his best friend. He watched his skin grow paler as time passed lazily by, and tried to discern the isolated words which came from the man’s parted lips. None of them made sense when classified together to Rhett’s amusement. He’d forgotten Link was a sleep-talker.

The man’s injured hand still clung safely to his chest, its bandages changed out since a couple hours ago. Rhett had to wait until Link was deep in his sleep before undoing the bled through wraps because, this time around, he had added an extra step in the process of mending, which he figured Link wouldn’t take too kindly to. The argument that wolves lick their wounds for a reason probably wouldn’t have gone over well either. But it was done and his brother would never know the difference—until he took into account the impeccable healing within the next several days without the use of remedies.

Despite his accomplishment he still lacked in supplies to properly take care of his brother. For one thing, a blanket. The harshest season of the year was rapidly approaching and the poor half-naked man Rhett secured in his arms had naught but the other man’s body heat to keep him from freezing. The bearded man cursed himself for not thinking things through more carefully.

Not that Link had ever agreed to stay with him anyway. And he actually had the nerve to threaten the man for it, he thought ruefully. The man was rushing to get back home, and Rhett couldn’t blame him, really, considering all his brother had to think back to. If the circumstances weren’t as they were, Rhett would’ve never returned to Buies Creek to allure him. He would’ve stayed well away from all human contact, forever—happily ever after for everyone.

Rhett knew he should resent himself for it, but, at that very moment, when he could hold his best friend this way and watch as he dreamed peacefully, he didn’t regret their decision to bind themselves together unknowingly those many years ago. Nothing felt more fulfilling than sharing in each other’s warmth.

That was, until Link eventually stirred and opened his eyes to find himself entangled in the larger man’s limbs. He huffed out a breath of uneasiness and Rhett retracted his embrace. Guess the fun was over, Rhett thought. The two sat up on the mattress, Link more frantically, as if he were trying to get his bearings. He climbed off and immediately went for the pile of clothing belonging to him sitting near the hearth. Rhett watched absent-mindedly as the shivering man dressed himself and uttered things under his breath. When he was fully ready, Link said with an air of superiority, “Well? C’mon, Rhett, we need to get going.”

Rhett unwillingly obeyed, dressing lightly despite the dropping temperature. He knew he had to somehow make up for the words he’d said last night which were uncalled for, and many other things that Link wasn’t even aware of. And he had limited time.

The spectacled man stepped out of the cabin into the pre-winter wind without another word, just as Rhett was thinking about relighting the fire in the hearth to heat up some food. Rhett looked at the door, then at the firewood, and back at the door. Regrettably, he ignored his stomach and went after his friend. He knew it was a lost cause, but he asked anyway when he caught up outside, “Don’t ya want breakfast first?”

“The way back is gonna take long enough without your tryin’ to stall it.” His words were as sharp as the air which set his teeth a-chattering.

“I’m not trying to stall it, ‘t’s a good idea to eat before goin’ out, is all. Ya need your energy.”

Link’s screwed up features never relaxed. “Well, at least one of us can live with it.”

Why was he so rude all of a sudden? Was his presence that much of a burden to him now? Rhett didn’t know how to take it, but he knew it was better to ignore it and keep his own temper in check than to engage it. “All right, then. No breakfast.” He shrugged with pouty lips.

Link stopped and sighed, his breath floating off in a cloud. “Ya don’t suppose I could ride on your back again?”

“Uh-uh,” Rhett shook his head at him. “Not with that hand ‘a yours.”

“My hand’s fine, actually.” The man examined his bandaged hand with knitted brows. “Doesn’t sting as much as it did last night, that’s for sure.” 

“That’s good. But you’re still not ridin’. I don’t trust it.” If Link could restrain him from eating, then it’s only fair he could restrain Link from a fast getaway, he thought.

Link scowled. “This walk’ll take all day.”

“Then we better get going, huh?” Rhett set their pace at a fast walk, in the lead as always. No more running into traps; that he could ensure, as he gave himself away to his heightened senses.

An impressive amount of time stretched between the two before either spoke again, both tense in their own ways. The walk, however, did wonders to calm Rhett’s nerves. Being surrounded by endless nature and its creatures was always a sort of cure-all for the werewolf. For a human, however, being inadequately dressed for the weather and lacking in essentials, having no belonging out there, not so much. Rhett’s nerves gradually melted down into sympathy for the man following his footsteps. Having to hear his trembling and sense his unsure steps along the ground was quite enough to understand his lost composure.

Link had every right to be angry at him. He’d put the man’s life on pause. And for what? Link had no idea, as he had made evident the night before. He only followed Rhett without a second thought, which the bearded man now understood to be nothing short of amazing after their time apart. The invisible pull between them was strong as ever. It was a bittersweet circumstance.

Link surprised him by breaking the silence. “Why’d I wake up to you…holding me?” He should’ve guessed Link would bring up the matter sooner or later.

Licking his lips, he answered, “Right, that. See, I didn’t have a blanket around the cabin for ya, so I figured you would appreciate the shared body heat.”

He didn’t have to look back at him to know what expression Link wore. His right eyebrow would have twitched. “Uh-huh, well… Thanks for the thought, but I think I would’a fared well enough.”

“Ya didn’t have a problem with it in the barn,” Rhett threw out.

“But you were a wolf then.”

Rhett stroked his beard in consideration. “So, you only prefer it when I’m shifted?” Perhaps he liked the extra hair.

“It’s—“ He could feel Link’s accelerated blood flow through the small space between them. “It’s easier to nestle up to a dog than a big hairy man; I’ll say that much.”

“Right.”

The way that conversation had turned must’ve deterred Link’s attempts for more discussion, as the two grew silent again for another long while. Rhett was comfortable with it, though, with the satisfaction of the response he was given which could only be picked up by his senses.

As the journey progressed, Rhett purposefully led them down a detour on a path to water. For no matter how impatient his brother was to getting to the other edge of the woods, he couldn’t deny his thirst. They came up to the top of a slope and hiked down to a bed of rocks, Link grasping the sleeve of Rhett’s shirt for fear of tripping again.

Safe on his own two feet atop the rock bed, Link asked, “Why’re we down here?”

“We’ve been hikin’ for a good while now. You need to drink.” He urged the man on toward the hidden trickle of water with a firm hand on his back.

Their thirsts sated for the time, Rhett started to pay attention to the rumbling in his belly. His head hung low at the thought that he may not get a bite any time soon. His mind wandered, completely separated from his actions, imagining the mouth-watering taste of a nice stew. Should’ve insisted on breakfast, he told himself. Meanwhile, his senses picked up something out of the ordinary in their path, and he cleared all distracting thoughts and redirected his step. Those humans again.

“Someone’s out here. Feels like they’re watching us,” he whispered to Link behind him. “And they don’t smell too friendly.”

“Really? You think maybe it’s the same horseman?” Rhett heard only hope in his voice, which worried him.

“Could very well be.” He twisted the hair in his beard, contemplating whether to steer clear of or follow the new presence hidden among them.

“Well, what’re we waiting for? Let’s go to ‘em. All this time they’ve been lookin’ for me.” Link went off ahead of him with a spring in his step. Rhett watched him wide-eyed. Not this again!

“Now, hold on, Link.” He caught the man’s elbow and Link turned back to shoot him a look. “Didn’t ya hear me? It doesn’t feel right.”

“For you, of course.”

Was he referring to…? Rhett shook his head. “I’m serious. C’mon, let’s get away from here.” The hair all along his body began to bristle as the two stood there, like sitting ducks in the sight of a hunter. The presence was getting nearer, and it didn’t feel like only one anymore. Should he shift?

“Let go, Rhett.” Link forced his hand off of his arm. “They’re only searching for me. You can go run off and hide if you’re so afraid of being found out.”

He stared at his best friend, silenced by his words, and retracted his reach for the man.

What if Link was right? That he only sensed danger from the human presence because he, a creature not supposed to exist, was meant to be hunted by them. Perhaps Link was perfectly safe and they only came to bring him home like the man so believed.

At that point, Rhett could clearly hear the shuffling of dead leaves under the hooves of horses. He took an involuntary step backward at the sight of movement behind the cluster of trees separating them. The urge to flee almost overtook him, out of habit from years of avoiding hunters’ eyes. One last look at Link’s expression and he knew he was going off to hide alone.

The two hurried away in opposite directions. Not far off, Rhett came down behind the wall of the ravine and rested there. His heart was beating out of his chest, he realized. Strange, he never feared hunters, and he knew this time was no different. What was he afraid of then? he wondered.

His keen ears picked up on the horses’ running again. Theirs coming nearer, and Link’s getting further away. The man was calling out for them now. And Rhett guessed he was also hearing the murmurs of the horsemen underneath his calls. Something in the back of his mind urged Rhett to quit hiding and watch over Link, to make sure he was right in listening to him. He listened.

Crouching behind the cover of brush, still well enough away so to not be detected, but close enough to watch, he peeked through the briars and could clearly see the back of his brother waving the others down excitably. An instinctive guttural growl escaped him as the horsemen came into view.

“Mr. Charles Neal,” one of the men asserted in a tone which caused Link to pause. Rhett’s breath caught as they came to a stop before the man. Their stance was very guarded; not at all in a way would a search party react to finding a lost person. “I’m afraid you will have to come with us, as you are under arrest.”

“Huh?” Link took a step back, but any attempts to escape were thwarted when the other two humans seized him and bound his wrists together. He kicked and writhed and hollered at them, demanding they let him go, but nothing he could do helped.

The enraged werewolf almost leapt out from his hiding and charged them then and there, but the logical side of him held his anger back. He couldn’t possibly get in and out of there with his brother safe in his arms—not with those weapons hanging behind the men’s backs. Both would be shot down within seconds. And he couldn’t kill them, could he?

Angry and confused, Rhett was forced to stay back as he watched his best friend get hauled up onto the back of a horse defenselessly.

“Why are you doing this?” he heard Link demand the man in front of him.

“You’re wanted for dabbling in witchcraft,” the man answered. He then spurred his horse into motion, the other two mounting up and following their lead.

Rhett jumped up from his crouch and watched them disappear, countless thoughts racing through his head and impulses biting at him. A snarl engraved on his face, he shifted almost instantaneously.


	7. Chapter 7

Charles’ jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. The thick piece of rope between his teeth didn’t help much either. A while back the flustered man had earned the thing fastened around his head to ‘hush him up’, after his endless string of questions, threats, and occasional curses directed at his captors. Unfortunately, the men took these as the very superstitious curses they had captured him for—or so they foolishly believed—and now Charles had nothing else but his icy glare fixed on the man on the right flank. If only he could work a real curse, thought the barber in his vexation.

“Sir, he won’t stop eyeballin’ me,” the man on the right complained.

“Jus’ keep your eyes in front o’ you and ignore him,” the one in front of Charles replied.

Charles squinted at him, his teeth showing, all bared down on the rope in his mouth. For added effect, his nose crinkled. The right horseman shuffled in his saddle uneasily, unable to look away from the worrying sight just beside him. “I don’t like this. He looks like he’s up to somethin’.”

The other man shook his head and grunted. “He can’t do anything all tied up. Now quit worryin’ about it.”

Starting to like this newfound game, Charles stretched the right corner of his mouth upward in a false smirk. It was a bluff, of course, but the man didn’t know that.

“I dunno, sir. Looks like he’s doin’ some kind of mind trickery.” His expression could’ve made Charles laugh if he was able.

“I don’t think it works that way, Kevin,” the man to Charles’ left piped up. “Don’t’cha think he needs to speak the words aloud?”

“How do you know, Morgan? Do you practice witchcraft?” the man, Kevin, snapped back. “He could have any number of secret abilities.” Charles rolled his eyes. He was feeling a headache coming on just listening to the fool.

“Well, listen. If he hadn’t done nothin’ yet, then he won’t do nothin’ at all. Think about it—”

“Would you boys jus’ shut your traps already?” the lead captor barked. “And Morgan’s right, Neal’s harmless the way he is.”

And that was the end of it. Hearing the words, Charles was reminded that they were true. He was under arrest, albeit wrongly, and there was nothing he could do about it. His mask dropped, as well as his heart and stomach.

As the group soared through the woods, the barber thought back to that morning when he was safe. Waking up in warmth and comfort—exactly the opposite of what he felt on the back of this horse, beyond chilled to the bone. Captivated in the arms of his best friend, instead of in coarse ropes. Safe and protected from the outside world. And yet, still unhappy. Charles felt his throat tighten when he replayed his words towards Rhett while, all along, Rhett knew what was coming.

He told the man go off and hide, and he’d listened. Did he know Charles’ awaited search party had turned out to be his captors, bringing him back into Buies Creek bound and defenseless under the accusation of practicing sorcery? Of course he did; he’d sensed it, he’d warned him.

Was he going to come to Charles’ aid? As pretentious as it sounded, the barber knew the answer was a definite yes. He had a strong feeling that Rhett, wild beast or not, would do anything for him.

They both would.

Even in his seemingly tight and inescapable situation, Charles was comforted by at least that much. He imagined the big shaggy wolf running close behind, with jaws powerful enough to sever the heads of this entire group if he tried. He was only waiting for the right moment to strike. Or so the man hoped to high heaven.

As if the man could read his mind, Kevin spoke up once again with, “Not to mention he has a humongous wolf in his control, and it’s out here somewheres probably lookin’ for its master, too.”

“You’re right,” the lead captor said, “and if you don’t keep quiet, it might just hear you and come outta the trees for ya.”

That shut him up for the last time. And, oh, how Charles wished the man was right.

***

The latest news of the missing barber spread all across town like wildfire that day. After all, rare were the cases of a witch being exploited—almost unheard of. Every business and the streets were filled with nothing but folks riled up and exaggerating the rumor. Constables certainly had their hands full in dealing with the potentially riotous groups, as many an argument were sure to turn ugly.

Standing atop the stoop of the shop, peering across the masses was poor Chase, who wondered if telling Edward and Alexander was the right thing to do. Probably not, he concluded. Those two could get a whole town raving about anything in a matter of a single morning.

“I mean, I knew there was somethin’ the matter with the ol’ boss man, but… never saw ‘witch’ comin’, eh?” Edward jabbed, leaning against the wall some ways away from the stoop within earshot.

“Ah, well. I think I saw it in the way he looked at the customers some days, now that I think back on it.” Alexander shrugged. “You notice he’d step out at times. Pretty suspicious to me.”

Edward nodded. “You know what this means now, right? One o’ us can be the boss man from now on, if we wanted. ‘Cause I don’t see that Neal comin’ back and just walkin’ right in here like nothin’ happened.”

A chuckle escaped his lips before Alexander could voice his thought. “Or he’d walk in with that tamed werewolf o’ his on a leash maybe.”

“Ha! I wouldn’t put it past him.” After a swig of his drink, he added, “Ya know, if he is found out there, some blood’s gonna be spilt. Best case, the beast’s. But maybe Neal’ll get it goin’ on a rampage an’ it’ll kill us all before we can do anything.”

“Hm. The barber doesn’t hate us that much, does he?”

Edward shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past him,” he repeated.

***

Charles didn’t know whether to cheer or to be afraid as the group neared the outskirts of the woods. For one thing, his body felt beat up by the horrible ride and he eagerly awaited being hauled off the mount. For another, in his situation, he had a feeling his body will feel more than beaten once he entered Buies Creek.

How will he plead innocent if the whole town believed otherwise? It was clear Rhett wasn’t jumping out to his rescue any time soon, and he was left disheartened. He had to face this alone—this being whatever these men were going to do with him.

The man in front of Charles slowed his horse to a trot as the group reached the borders of town and strode in through the main entrance. They stared down the biggest, most populous street. Charles gulped, all too conscious of the rope in his mouth and the binding of his wrists as the familiar townsfolk silenced themselves and crowded around, gawking at the humiliated barber. People he knew for years, even back into his childhood, were there witnessing his arrest. And for all they knew, the charges pressed against him were true, and Charles was now a disgrace to them all. He’d never have their trust again. He couldn’t even push the spectacles up the bridge of his nose to properly analyze their expressions.

His little parade of shame snaked through the crowd ever so slowly until they reached the very building Charles never expected to be escorted into, the courthouse.

A wave of crippling fear washed down his torso, weighing heavily in his chest. Charles couldn’t cooperate when his captors tried to dismount him and almost fell to the dirt during his panic attack. His mind chanted ‘there’s nothing you can say’, ‘they’ll never believe you’, and ‘this is the end of you.’ He felt bile climb his throat, though his stomach was empty. Tears welled up in his red-rimmed eyes. Never before did he wish to be in the arms of Rhett more than that moment as the men forced him to a stand and walked him inside.

The nice, orderly interior reinforced the feeling of inferiority and helplessness, making his head duck down like a sorry prisoner. He was walked down a hallway and into the expansive—for a small town anyway—courtroom. Pews were neatly lined up toward the high desk, or the bench. Charles felt utterly filthy in this place, on top of that gross, sick feeling, despite knowing that his accused crime wasn’t true at all.

Of course he was innocent, but Charles also had his unannounced disappearance into the woods to own up to. The truth being that his werewolf best friend was the reason behind it, well, couldn’t be explained in a way they’d understand and accept. So, in a way, the barber would be seen as guilty no matter what.

For the sake of his own well-being, Charles forced his mind to clear and not think about anything that might ensue. He had to make himself stupid for the time being, or that lingering feeling after a panic attack will never go away. But in all honesty he just wanted to fall into a trance and not wake up until the trial was over. He did his best.

 

“Mr. Charles L. Neal III, is it?” the barber heard somewhere in the outside world—his eyes were open but they didn’t see. His eyelids fluttered as he returned from deep within himself, and came face to face with an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and a beer belly. Very clean-cut and sharply dressed, showing off his superiority over him. “Yes, hello, sir. Come back to us.” The man laughed to himself.

Charles ran his tongue all around his mouth, feeling the absence of the rope like a lost tooth, and pushed up his spectacles with a now free hand. He heard hushed murmurs and he looked behind him to find a full house. Every pew was filled with either angry, holier-than-thou or otherwise curious faces. Charles took a deep breath, eyes wide and heart beating out of his chest once more.

“Excuse me, Mr. Charles Neal,” the pompous man in front of him practically sang. Charles looked up at him, still slouched over in his seat. “Are you ready to begin?”

As if he had a choice. Charles stood, every muscle in his body complaining, and walked up to his ‘box’ and sank back down.

His head was swimming. Temples pounding, throat constricted, chest crushed under an invisible weight. Nothing about his current state allowed him to properly pay attention to what was going on during the trial, his own trial. On the verge of collapsing he gripped the wood wall in front of him with jittery hands. Isolated words registered in his brain when the man who laughed in his face spoke to all the crowd. Like ‘witnessed’, ‘gallivanting’ and ‘seduce’. If only he could focus hard enough to put these into context.

Out of nowhere came a shrill which cut off the man’s endless speech. And Charles felt hands on his back and shoulder seconds later. “Link, my dear,” a woman spoke into his ear. “Are you all right?”

“Mom,” he managed, his voice gruff.

There were many discontented voices behind them, which Mom ignored. “He needs water,” she called out to someone else. Her arms wrapped around him from behind and Charles surrendered and fell into her. The tears from before returned, this time relentless, his body trembling. Mom shushed him and ran her hand along his back, the same way she did when her Little Link was a child. It’d been a long time since Charles had went back to visit her, and he couldn’t be happier to find her here as he broke down in front of almost everyone he knew.

“There, there, sweetie. I can’t imagine how overwhelming this must be for you.” She paused. “You didn’t really… Did you?”

Charles tried to compose himself. “Of course not.”

“Ah, I knew everyone’d jumped to conclusions. I knew my boy’d never become a criminal.”

“Ahem, Miss? I must ask you to please return to your seat.” Charles was really starting to hate that man up front.

Mom seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Oh, come now! Don’t’cha see my boy isn’t well?”

“Any ol’ fool would be shaking in his boots if he were found guilty, and rightly so. Miss.”

Then, another woman, older and stouter, came up to him and began to dab Charles’ forehead with a damp cloth. “Nana,” he acknowledged.

Nana spared him a smile, though really she too was on the verge of tears, seeing her grandson this way at the front of the courtroom. “Oh, Link. How ever did you get yourself into this mess?” It seemed Nana didn’t believe the accusation against him either.

There was a bang at the bench. “Order, ladies. Please.” He shooed them away. Unfortunately, they had to listen and Charles had to be alone again.

“Don’t you worry, dear, it’ll all work out in the end,” Mom whispered before leaving him.

Charles wanted so desperately to believe her. He watched the women return to their seats with puffy eyes.

“Now, if you please! Seeing as the accused is taken care of… Let us begin again, with no more interruptions.”

The man he was forced to answer to went on with his spiel. Charles could hardly listen, even after he recovered from his breakdown, because it would only drag him back down into his hole hearing the words. He leaned there against the wood wall with his face to the floor and hands clasped together, like a sinner on judgement day. There was no way he could escape this room. They knew of his werewolf, and the only way he could possibly ‘tame’ a werewolf, according to the claims presented to him, he had to have dabbled in witchcraft. Because there was no such thing as a tame werewolf. And according to a ‘reliable’ eye witness, Charles had done the impossible in ‘showing affection toward the beast.’

This eye witness was the blonde woman, wearing a wide-brimmed hat which hid half of her face, standing across from him. She was very descriptive when painting everyone a mental picture of Charles caressing the face of a giant beast. And Charles realized she was the horseman he’d run after before his fall. If only he hadn’t have followed her…

When asked if her story was true, he remained silent.

“Were you with the werewolf, Mr. Charles Neal?” the man he hated asked with more slowly and clearly.

He knew the man had him practically under his boot. There was no escaping this room. “Yes,” he whispered to the floor.

“I’m sorry, you must speak up so that we can all hear. Did you say a yes?”

Charles wanted to step out of his box, walk right up to him, and scream it in his face. But that wasn’t allowed. “Yes,” he barked. “It’s true…”

Everyone in the pews gasped, followed by ugly comments directed towards him. Charles looked back only to see the reactions of Mom and Nana. Both were absolutely horrified but also confused. He realized that he’d told them he was innocent, and they must’ve thought that included the part with the werewolf. He guessed that made him a liar on top of everything else.


	8. Chapter 8

Acidic bile made its way up Charles’ throat threatening to flood his mouth as his empty stomach heaved. Uncaring he let it have its way, splashing the ground under him while he walked. Well, mostly dragged. He had no strength in his limbs to fight the hands pulling him along, or even match the men’s pace. He was utterly hopeless and helpless.

Those words kept playing back in his mind, making him feel horribly ill. Charles could only stare ahead of him unseeing with the same wide eyes he had when those words were spat out of the judge’s mouth.

“You know what happens to folks like you when they’re sniffed out, Mr. Charles Neal?”

The poor barber’s throat had been too tight to answer. But he had known—learned back in his childhood days when Nana tried scaring him away from such practices, if he ever had the curiosity.

“Execution! Hanged!” The crowd behind him had raised their voices to an uproarious level. Each word had been like a bullet to Charles’ heart. His fears confirmed, unconsciousness had threatened to overtake him. This can’t be happening! Please let this be a dream! he had thought.

The only objections to the judge’s sentencing had come from the two beloved women in Charles’ life. Mom and Nana’d tried getting to him again, out of protective motherly instinct, only to be held aside by guards as two other, bigger, guards seized Charles once again. No escape…hopeless.

He had no clue where the guards were leading him now. His spectacles had been knocked off sometime in the process of the seizing and reaching the outside, and there was a good chance he’d never get them back without finding them smashed under someone’s boot. He was too panic-stricken to care about his eye sight at the moment, anyway. Besides, he wouldn’t need it for much longer.

Finally, Charles found himself in the dark of another building, one that he’d also never planned on going into before. This one, however, didn’t have the nice and orderly interior as the courthouse. No, this place looked down upon him and made him feel filthy in a much different way. The guards led him down a flight of stairs without the help of a torch to light their way. Charles was fully relying on their hold now, as he had no way of getting around safely on his feet alone. They came to a halt some steps away from the flight and one of the men let go to snatch something from the surrounding wall. A long-needed torch was lit. When his red puffy eyes adjusted to the little bright light in the vast darkness, he scanned what little he could make out of menacing room before him, which, in his poor eye sight, seemed to resemble what he’d imagine as a dungeon.

Strange, he’d expected to have been dragged up to the hanging tree straight away. But that event must have to wait, for what he wasn’t sure. One thing he did know was that he was grateful that his inevitable demise wasn’t going to happen that day, or at least not yet. He still had time to sit and sulk, cry his eyes out, and maybe get sick again. The guards then walked him into what might pass as a cell and Charles obediently stood on the other side of the heavy door alone. He winced when the door was slammed shut, as its bang sent yet another headache to work away at his temples. Once his cell had been locked in chains, the two men said their goodbyes and cursed him for being the abomination he was in their eyes.

They felt no remorse in what they were doing to him. Charles felt his stinging eyes overflow with tears once more. And he broke down, falling to his knees on the cold hard floor. “Why?” he demanded aloud, his voice cracking and weak, sending a faint echo through the high-ceilinged stone chamber. “Why me? What have I done to deserve this?” Feeling sorry for himself, he covered his face in his hands and sobbed, trembling uncontrollably.

After he’d cried himself out, a more familiar feeling replaced his anguish, and he slammed his fists to the floor in frustration. A gasp escaped him once his right hand met with the stone and he was quickly reminded that that hand was bandaged and trying to heal. Worried he had damaged it further, Charles unwrapped the bandages to assess it. The only light he had to work with was coming from the little window high above him near the top of the chamber’s wall. And what was left of the daylight was dim and waning fast. But he could at least make out the line of teeth marks punctured across the middle of his palm and over the back of his hand. They were dark and scabbed over, no doubt going to leave a nasty scar if given the time to. But the pain of them had been deadened compared to the night before.

Charles revisited the memory of that night when he woke up to his hand mended for him. And a hot supper was prepared and fed to him. Oh, how he wished to return to that night. Even in feeling sick to his stomach and his tongue coated in bile, the thought of a hot supper as he lay atop a soft feather mattress appealed to him. As well as getting out of these rags, he thought as he looked down at his grimy, tattered work clothes. Most of all, he simply wished to be safe in the woods again, well away from this forsaken town. Too bad he hadn’t seen his blessings when he had them.

Maybe Rhett had. The man was never planning on taking him home again after all. For a very different reason, of course, one that still didn’t make sense to Charles. He didn’t really recall what it was he’d said—that they were chained together somehow? Either way, even if he had listened to his best friend’s nonsense, he surely wouldn’t be stuck in a cell awaiting his time for execution. Funny, how cruel this life could turn out.

“But if you wanted me so badly, then why didn’t you do something out there?” He knew Rhett wasn’t there to listen, but it felt better to speak his mind aloud. To pretend his friend was sitting there next to him hearing his words, instead of facing the fact that he will be alone for the rest of his short time. “You could’ve killed all three of ‘em. You could’ve scared ‘em off, in the least. Why didn’t you do something, if you didn’t want me to go away?”

Charles looked beside him where Rhett should’ve been and only saw the other side of the empty, filthy chamber. “Where did you go?”

***

Rhett, still in shift, snarled to himself as he paced back and forth just within the cover of woods along the border of town. The fire in his eyes never ceased—the sight of his best friend, his Link, being dragged against his will into—who knows what—had been burned into them. It angered him to no end that he couldn’t step in. He couldn’t show himself the way he was to Buies Creek, and he wasn’t exactly prepared to stroll in in his human guise either, now without his clothing.

Imagine the commotion he’d stir up, a wild hairy man in the nude running off with their latest criminal, or even worse, a gigantic wolf running off with him. Neither was a good idea unless he had a death wish. These humans had guns and crossbows aplenty and they wouldn’t hesitate to use them on the werewolf. Maybe even Link, too. He needed to make his move while no one was around.

Just then, he felt the wind pick up and whip through his golden brown fur, whistling through the dead wood behind him. He tipped his nose upward. The sky had already dimmed considerably as the sun sunk low to the east, while a cluster of dark clouds loomed from the west. Rhett recognized them as the warning sign for an upcoming drastic change of weather. That night would bring the first snow. Perfect.

‘Hang in there, Link!’ he directed the words in his mind along the baiting pull he felt between them, though he knew the man would never hear him. ‘We’ll be together again soon.’ Not soon enough, he added to himself.

***

Charles lay there on the stone floor curled up within himself. No matter what position he assumed, there was no use in finding comfort. He felt terribly ill, but even that wasn’t so bad as the terrible thoughts which plagued his mind. As the evening wore on, he sank deeper and deeper into this pit he had dug for himself, and there was no hope of coming out of it. Even when he was surprised to see a bowl of sloshy mush having been slid under the door—and he hadn’t eaten at all that day—he felt no drive to lift himself off the floor to get it. He left his only source for nourishment to sit and go to waste. Just as he was, his inner demons told him.

There was a shifting movement from the other side of the door, and Charles opened one eye to peek up at the little window to see who was with him. The person who he expected to have given him the food wasn’t turning to leave, but instead standing there and watching him, like a hunter marveling at a caged animal he’d caught. Charles partly wanted to tell the person to go away and leave him be. But then he suddenly heard the rattling of chains as the person let them fall from the door. They were planning on coming in! Was it time already?

A suspenseful moment of silence went by before Charles watched the heavy door creak open. His heart was climbing up his throat once again as fear took over. His curled body stiffened when the person took a couple steps inside and stopped to stare down at their poor pitiful witch.

Charles was kicked square in the chest and he let out a breathless yelp. “Sit up and talk to me!” the person ordered. It was a woman’s voice, but much too rough to be any of whose he knew of. With as much energy as he could muster, he obeyed her command and lifted his weak body up to a sitting position before her. And then she kicked the bowl of mysterious mush toward him, which spilled over onto the floor. “Why don’t you eat, witch?”

He knew he had to answer her, but he wasn’t sure if he could speak anymore as he was still trying to recover from her boot. The urge to vomit came back in full. Charles swallowed it down and choked out, “I refuse to eat…” There was an edge of malice in his voice that he didn’t originally intend.

The woman tapped her boot against the stone floor as if impatient. “I see. Now, on to what I’m really here for.” Charles leaned backward defensively in case she planned on abusing him again. “Where are you hiding your beast?” She seemed to spit out the last word in repulsion.

Charles cursed under his breath. They wanted Rhett as well—and they weren’t going to do anything with the barber until they had the information they needed, he speculated. “I don’t know.” Actually, it was the truth, even though he’d said it instinctively.

She gave him another swift kick this time to the ribs. The chamber was too dark for Charles to have seen it coming. He doubled over in pain. “Wrong!” the woman scolded. “You and your beast have a connection between you. You do know! So tell me!”

A growl resonated in Charles’ throat. If only he had the energy to stand up and fight. He wouldn’t have to take this. “I’m telling you, lady, I have no idea! He could be anywhere out there!” His outcry made him overwhelmingly lightheaded and he was tempted to lie down again and ignore any further questioning, even when it results in another kick. Why not? It couldn’t be worse than being hanged.

“You’re trying my patience, witch,” the woman spat. Charles then felt the air escape his lungs as her boot sank into his chest and pinned him down to the hard floor. “You’ll tell me where your beast now resides, plain and simple—or, if you keep refusing to speak, you’ll wish your execution had happened tonight.”

Eyes wide and wet with tears, Charles tried to heave out any words that would come.

That was when another couple sets of footsteps scuffled down the flight of stairs behind her. They were heavy and determined, but strangely they also sort of clacked against the floor, like claws rather than men’s boots. The woman eased her hold on Charles’ chest and looked back in surprise to see what could possibly make such noise as it made its way toward the chamber. The torch which was lit on the wall opposite the chamber illuminated a large golden brown mass as it entered the bubble of light. A flash of huge eyes and glinting teeth which were bared as the mass uttered a low rumbling growl.

“Rhett…” Charles breathed in disbelief. A surge of hope and happiness permeated his being. He still had a second chance!

The woman lifted her boot from his chest and stepped through the chamber’s doorway, standing her ground between the two brothers. Her mistake. Charles made an attempt to smile as he heard—felt—Rhett on the other side make his advance.


	9. Chapter 9

The moment Rhett stepped through the entryway of the dark basement, the feeling of dread overwhelmed his senses, like that of a suffering, dying spirit—but not his own. This place rank of the terrible happenings gone on within its walls. He bared his teeth, furious that his own hometown would dump his brother in such an awful place as if he were no more than the town’s waste. He pushed those senses away for the time, listening only to the pull which led him in the direction of his Link. The poor man was just at the other end of the room, his will to fight for survival broken as he lay flat on the floor.

And the person who’d broken it, standing over him, was waiting to be thanked.

Curiously, Rhett sensed very minimal fear emanating from her, even as he flashed his canines in the torchlight. Why so confident? he wondered, didn’t she know a werewolf when she saw one? He did not see a weapon to aid her; no guards around to call for. A growl rumbled from his throat, echoing through the dark. Regardless, he’ll correct her arrogance, and show the entirety of Buies Creek not to lay a hand on his blood brother.

The werewolf locked eyes with the woman. This ends here, he vowed.

Letting out a roar, he leapt, jaws unhinged for her head. Fury clouded his vision in that fraction of a second. He did not feel his deadly contact with her delicate human skin upon landing. He also did not see her swift duck and swipe of her hand coming out of her boot as she disappeared underneath him.

Before Rhett could process her defense and counteract, he landed hard behind her. A terrible pain paralyzed him. His roar had gone up in a high-pitched yowl, and continued in a series of whines. Stars filled his vision as the sharp pain burned through his underbelly, which grew worse as time crawled and the rush of the moment fled from him.

His furry limbs wriggled about on the floor, until they shrank back into their original form, and he curled them into his bare torso. The smell of his own blood filled his senses.

***

Charles stopped breathing as he stared bug-eyed at the unthinkable scene before him. The woman had won the encounter. He couldn’t believe it!

“Rhett!” Charles cried weakly after recovering from the initial shock. He crawled on all fours toward the wounded man writhing just outside the chamber’s doorframe and placed his hands over Rhett’s skin. The man, stripped and left vulnerable, huffed and groaned. His arms were crossed against his chest protectively.

The pounding of the woman’s heels caught Charles’ attention, and he looked up just in time to watch her throw the flaming torch to the floor before escaping up the flight of steps. At first, the act confused him that she would make such a useless attempt to start a fire as the place was made of stone. But his eyes widened in shock as the rolling torch’s flame caught on the flammable waste and outdoor filth scattered along the floor. It created a low wall which curved around their only exit. He bit the inside of his mouth a little too hard. How was the impossible happening to him all at once?

Breathing quick and shallow, Charles turned back to his friend. “Move your arms away, Rhett. I need to see,” he ordered, pushing the man’s arms away himself. A dark gash—maybe a hand’s length—cutting down the middle of Rhett’s ribcage was the first thing his wide eyes focused on. The wound was a clean cut, and flowing red, streaking across Rhett’s ribs and pooling underneath him. Charles immediately turned his body the opposite way as he heaved and the smallest amount of bile came up. Tears sprang into his eyes. The blood…he couldn’t handle this alone! he thought in distress. And yet he had no choice. Rhett needed him. And he needed to be strong.

Charles took a long, precious moment to regulate his breathing and get his lightheadedness under control. He had no other choice! he told himself again, a snarl stretching his lips. After short hesitation he whirled back around to face their problem. “Now, you listen to me, brother!” He unfurled his ratty old scarf from his neck and stretched it out. “I have to wrap this around you, so please, lift your chest up for me, all right?” His voice gave away his fear, but the wounded man obeyed him doubtlessly. And Charles was able to conceal the seeping gash in a tight bind. Rhett cursed under his breath when the knot applied pressure to the opening.

“I’m sorry, Link,” the man whispered between groans. “I didn’t think—“

“No! Don’t you start blaming yourself for this!” Charles snapped. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t be here.” He sniffed and wiped a tear away with a fist. “I was being stubborn; I was the one who didn’t think.”

Rhett surprised him by letting out a short laugh. “’T’s darn right, you’re stubborn! Wouldn’t listen to a single thing I said. An’ now look at us.”

He guessed Rhett wasn’t going to take his dramatics after all. “Hmph! Well, enough about that; looks like it’s my turn to protect you.”

“I’m not useless yet, Link. ‘T’s only a scratch—that hurts like the devil.” The man propped himself up on one elbow and petted the scarf tied around his torso. “I’m still on the job.”

“You’re callin’ me useless, huh?” Charles shot back.

“Not at all. I need you just as much. I mean, look at me.” Both snickered quietly at his nudity.

A particularly loud crackle of the fire to their left stole Charles’ attention, and he remembered their dire situation. “All right, we gotta get a move on. Before that lady comes back with the whole town behind her, or we’re dead for sure.” He held out a hand to Rhett and together they managed to get to their feet. Teeth gritted, hands forged together, the brothers stared into the growing flames which ate at the layer of litter, barricading their exit.

“I should shift—“

“No, Rhett, you’re hurt.”

“Then how do ya suppose we cross this?”

Charles shook his head. The trying circumstances were pounding on his temples like none other, and he couldn’t think straight. “We have long legs. We can jump it.”

“Ya sure?”

“What else’re we gonna do?”

Rhett shrugged. That was all the agreement Charles needed. He let go of Rhett’s hand, took several steps back, and then took off as fast as he could toward the fire wall. Even in his utter exhaustion, his determination to make the jump was enough to push his feeble body over its limits. The flame’s heat came dangerously close to searing the bottoms of his boots, but Charles was happy to find himself stumble safe on the other side before he could breathe again. He erupted in manic laughter at his success, and then looked back over the wall in anticipation for the other man. Rhett also let out a relieved laugh seeing that Charles made it all right.

“C’mon, brother,” he called too loudly, “If I can make it, you can!”

Then Rhett’s smile faded. He seemed incompetent, to Charles’ surprise. But the man obeyed and took the same precautionary measures, before taking off. His quicker, longer stride didn’t give him much preparation for the jump, however, and the tightness of the scarf restricted the full stretch of his heaving chest. He exclaimed something unintelligible as the flames passed underneath his bare feet, and hissed between his teeth as he landed where Charles stood, ready to catch him. He held Rhett tightly in his arms for a moment, his mania quickly draining. “We did it, Rhett! We can get outta here.”

“Think I got burned. Under my feet’s pretty raw-feelin’.”

Charles gulped. “Well, c’mon, once we get to the woods, we can take a look at it.”

Rhett nodded and together, hand in hand, the two raced up the crude steps and out of the dark, filthy building. Charles was taken aback when they ran out into what looked like the middle of a blizzard. The bite of the wind caused him to shrivel up and instantly sent his teeth a-chattering. All he saw was snow, though it didn’t help that he was missing his spectacles. Not a person or building in sight. No wonder Rhett had felt so confident in running into town in his wolf form—no one could’ve seen him, he realized.

“Aaah, feels so good to be back in the cold, eh, Link?” Rhett said against the whistling wind.

Even if Charles wanted to respond, he couldn’t get anything past his teeth.

As much as the two needed to escape the boundaries of Buies Creek as quickly as possible, they were terribly exhausted and famished. And so Charles was actually grateful for the blizzard, because it gave them all the excuse they needed to slow down and take it easy on their bodies. They fell into a comfortable pace following the direction of the slanting snowfall. If he wasn’t so bothered by the frigid temperature and his own dizziness, he might’ve enjoyed their walk arm in arm.

Of course he was enjoying himself, he thought. They’d just escaped his own death sentence, and for that he owed his best friend his life. This realization made his chest feel funny. He looked up at the hairy man he clung to, marveling at the man’s aloofness toward the blizzard around him. But Charles mirrored his pained expression in sympathy as he remembered the wounds he’d caused Rhett. He’d have to give a proper apology at some point, once they were safely away.

Rhett then ended their peaceful silence as he began to “sense” the air, and he whipped his head around.

“What is it?”

“I think we should hurry on—“

He was interrupted by a sudden bang in the distance. The two halted for a fraction of a second in surprise, and then took off running once again. They knew a gunshot when they heard one.

***

“Don’t shoot yet, ya dolt!” Morgan scolded Kevin, swiping his rifle away. “What’re ya aiming at, the snow?”

“I heard somethin’ and my finger slipped.”

“Yeah, well, if ya didn’t a’rdy know, shootin’ in town is against the law an’ you jus’ broke it!”

“It was an accident. ‘Sides, it didn’t hit nobody.” Kevin reached for his stolen gun to no avail.

“Now the sheriff’s gonna be at your doorstep tomorrow mornin’.”

“Shut up, both o’ you. Morgan, give ‘im back his gun. We have to be ready for anything this beast does.”

The trio of horsemen trotted up the main street and around a bend passing the courthouse, well-suited for the severe weather. Despite it never a wise decision to hop on one’s horse and go out into a winter storm at the dead of night, the men had been ordered out into it by the sheriff himself. Of all else—Kevin worried—to go into the stockade, where the witch was held, and seize the werewolf, which they’ve been told was last seen inside. The poor rookie was beyond anxious to go inside the stockade as they reached the building. He hesitated on his horse as the other two hopped off and entered.

Just as Kevin set foot in the snow to follow them, he was scared stiff as a shout came from the inside. “Oh no, it’s got ‘em!” he whimpered to his horse.

He heard the lead horseman curse and run back up from the basement, followed by Morgan. “The place is in flames. And the witch and his beast are nowhere to be found!” Kevin huffed a sigh of relief in seeing that their shouts weren’t out of fear or of hurt. But his leader was angry.

“Looks like you were right, Kevin.” Morgan came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “That witch really did have some mind tricks he was hidin’ from us.”

“Don’t be a fool. T’was that werewolf o’ his that busted him out.” The lead horseman scratched the back of his neck in frustration.

“Well, what’re we gonna tell the sheriff?”

“Nothin’. We go out an’ find ‘em.”

“In this storm? There’s no way.”

“Oh, man up, Kevin. We tracked down that witch before, we can find him again! An’ this time we kill his werewolf.” He yanked Kevin’s gun away from Morgan and gave it back to the rookie. “Gentlemen.”


	10. Chapter 10

By the time the two escapees passed the threshold of the woods beyond the town border, the wind and snowfall died down significantly. As well as their boost of fear-induced adrenaline. They fell into a trudging pace together, trying desperately to catch their breath. Charles was again grateful for the support Rhett provided as his legs nearly collapsed underneath him. Their intense hold on each other never loosened; they moved as one unit.

But even in their combined drive to move forward, the men eventually came to a breaking point. Charles was the first to go down, letting out a cry of defeat, and Rhett could only follow. The smaller man shivered face-first in the blanket of snow. His ears were then filled with the warm breath of the other man as Rhett heaved next to him, a striking contrast to the icy chill his other ear felt.

Charles made no effort to reposition himself. Strangely, his friend’s labored breathes puffing straight into his ear was comforting. And as he listened, Rhett’s huffs began to sound like he was trying to say something. Charles soon realized he was saying his nickname, over and over. He turned his head slightly to glance at Rhett with one eye. The man then said, “We gotta make it to shelter.”

“Where?” he gasped.

“The barn.”

“But I…I’m too tired.”

Rhett blew out through his nose, probably in frustration. “We have to, Link. Or you’ll freeze to death.”

“Then carry me. I’m too tired.” Charles was much too weak to care about the cold. If he took another step he was convinced his legs would snap in two—if he didn’t faint first.

He heard the man growl under his breath. “I- I can’t do that for you.”

“Then it’s settled. We stay right here…an’ rest.” Charles buried the side of his face into the snow to make his point. He wasn’t about to force his body any further over its limits, despite the unbearable chill rattling his bones and discoloring his skin.

To his surprise Rhett didn’t respond. He listened to the man breathe heavily through his clenched teeth over the sound of the tree branches brushing against each other. Good to know he’d won the argument, he thought. Charles felt himself doze off in a matter of moments, blurring the sense of overwhelming cold that had engulfed him. He welcomed the peace of sleep.

But his slow descent into unconsciousness was soon interrupted when he felt a movement next to him, and then, over top of him. And a wave of glorious heat and energy washed over the half-frozen man. Charles opened an eye in shock and saw a thick bicep curve around his neck and dig under him so the hand could rest between the snow and his collarbone. A firm but gentle weight draped over his shoulder blades. He realized what had just happened and felt a lump form in his throat.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time his best friend had done this for him, or even the second. But Charles still had mixed feelings about their ‘’sharing body heat.” Truthfully, he didn’t know how to feel about it. All he knew was that his body welcomed it entirely. Seeing as he had no choice but to accept Rhett’s warmth either way, he turned off his lingering thoughts and let himself doze.

Some time later, what seemed like seconds, Charles was roused from his dreams by a rough hand shaking him. “Link, wake up. We gotta move, now!” he heard a low voice say in his ear.

It took a moment for him to get his bearings, to remember that they weren’t entirely safe where they were. Rhett was alarmed, and that meant danger. Charles shot up. “Wh-what?”

“Someone’s followin’ us. I was so sure the snow’d cover our tracks.” Rhett took hold of Charles’ arm and hoisted him to his feet, and the groggy man immediately felt dizzy by the swift motion. “C’mon, we gotta make it to the barn. An’ don’t fight me this time!”

***

“Did we lose ‘em?” the man Rhett was practically dragging asked as they reached the clearing. By the sheer lifelessness in his words, the larger man wished he’d have had the strength to drape his poor brother over his shoulder and let him rest. But too late for that now; they had made it. And Link looked as if he were about to pass out at any moment.

Remembering he’d been asked a question, Rhett paused and listened intently. “I wouldn’t let our guard down yet.” He heard nothing, but he doubted that their pursuers had given up so quickly.

The two lumbered into the barn’s void and Link wasted no time in dropping down, sprawled over the floor, and loudly catching his breath. Rhett retrieved the lantern they’d left on their last visit and lit a small bubble of firelight in between them. Link wriggled his body closer to the source of warmth, cupping his hands over it. Now Rhett could see exactly how the past horrid events had affected the poor man. Link looked absolutely terrible, a sad, sunken face, discolored skin, and weak, trembling body. If only the man would’ve listened to him in the first place, Rhett thought angrily, they’d be nodding off peacefully in the cabin at this time. Warm, well-fed and rested. But there was no fighting Link’s stubbornness.

“Will we have to move again tonight?” Link asked suddenly, sounding half-asleep.

“Hmm.” Rhett licked his lips. The thought of forcing the tired man to move another few steps seemed improbable, and certainly inconsiderate. Besides, Rhett also was tired, but for the most part starving. And his empty belly was making him irritable. “Tell ya the truth, if whoever’s trackin’ us shows their face any time soon, I’d rather stay an’ fight. I’m so hungry, I could eat a whole search party.”

“I’d rather you not,” he muttered passively.

The reply confused Rhett. Was he scared they’d lose the fight? he wondered. “Don’t be worryin’ about me, Link, it’s yourself you should look out for.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“Then, what?”

The man never answered. Rhett sat there across from him and listened as his breathing and shaking gradually grew softer. He finally concluded Link had gone to sleep. With an unsatisfied sigh, Rhett got up and went to find that wool blanket. Even as the winter chill didn’t bother him, the fact that he had no clothing certainly did. He wrapped the material around his waist and came back to the firelight to rest next to his best friend. It took quite a bit longer for him to doze off, as he was still very uncomfortable with the random spasms of pain shooting through him if he moved a certain way.

Rhett was woken up later by Link’s groaning and complaining about his discomforts. He couldn’t fault the man for it; he felt all those things himself. Glancing out the wide open entrance he noticed the sun was just rising behind the cloud cover. The lantern was out. Probably blown out by the whistling wind coming in. There were still a few stray flurries fluttering down outside.

His stomach interrupted the morning’s peace. Boy, if he didn’t get ahold of some food soon—well, he didn’t know what he’d do.

That was it, Rhett thought. He didn’t care that the gouge down his chest was still healing; its progress so far would have to be enough. He was going to hunt.

“What’re you doing?” Link asked upon seeing him unravel the scarf from his torso. The now-exposed wound stung, but it would certainly hold out until he got back, Rhett figured. His accelerated healing managed to close up the deep slit overnight, so unless Rhett accidentally opened it back up, there was no threat of bleeding.

“I’m gettin’ us food.”

“Hold on, you can’t hunt with y—“

“I told ya not to worry about me, Link. I’m fine, and I’ll be a whole lot better with a full stomach. Be back in no time, all right?”

“But…” Rhett didn’t allow Link to finish his sentence before running out the door, leaving behind the wool blanket previously wrapped around him, and shifting with the urgency of a ravenous beast. Whatever the other man wanted to say could wait until after the hunt. Nothing was more important at that moment than sinking his teeth into a juicy morsel, and gorging on it.

***

Charles gritted his teeth as his weak eyes followed the man turn into a blur in the distance. “Ergh! There’s no getting to that man when he’s hungry,” he grumbled at the lonely open space. Still, the thought of a good breakfast seemed one of his better ideas.

The wind picked up again, sounding as if it were hollering back at him. He wrapped his arms about himself and snagged the tossed scarf from the floor where Rhett had been sleeping, and then looked up near the entrance where the man had thrown off the blanket. He was soon huddled in the corner out of reach of the gusts, the wool cover cocooning him from his shoulders down.

Once his body began to warm up again, Charles’ thoughts raced. He was scared. He knew Rhett had told him not to be, but it wasn’t exactly for his friend that his worry sprouted. Someone from town was out there somewhere, looking for him, with the intention of dragging him back. So they could rid the oh-so-terrible and abominable ‘witch’ from their perfect little world.

What if the tracker picked up on Rhett’s trail while he was out there, and followed him all the way back to the barn? No, Charles made himself dismiss that thought; Rhett would sense them coming if they came too close. And what if they did cross paths? He gulped back the rising bile in his throat. Suddenly he couldn’t take thinking these things through. Instead he leaned back against the wall and shut off his brain for the sake of his sanity.

***

Of course all the animals would be burrowed deep underground, Rhett thought with a snarl. He hoped to spot a buck or two—preferably two, as he was hunting for more than just himself. Honestly, the more the better!

The wolf sniffed desperately in all directions for some bulk of flesh. But as he covered more and more ground without sensing anything larger than a squirrel, above ground at least, he began to entertain the idea that he’d hunted this area dry. Improbable as the idea may be.

Perhaps, it wasn’t so improba—oh! What’s this? Rhett wondered with pricked ears. He knew that scent, and it definitely wasn’t deer to his great disappointment. There were horses nearby, and mixed in with their scent, a pungent odor that could only belong to that of a human.

Great, he thought, instead of breakfast, he’d found their pursuers. But the revelation didn’t slow his step. He wasn’t afraid. In fact, he didn’t hesitate to steer himself directly in the path of the scent and bolt for it. The want for vengeance fueled his ferocity, as if his hunger wasn’t enough. Truthfully, all he wanted was for this whole dilemma with Link and their hometown to be over and done with. He only needed to get rid of these pigs.

Minutes later, the wolf came across a wide ditch which had been swept clear of snow, a pile of forest debris in the middle, and all around lied three men. On the other side of the camp stood three horses tied to a low branch. The docile beasts had their backs to Rhett probably still asleep. He trotted quietly as he could through the thick blanket of snow around the camp, eyes deadset on their hides, mouth watering. Horse couldn’t be much different than deer, right?

The nearest of the trio flicked its black ears behind it, and Rhett paused. Blast, that one was awake. He prowled up to the fidgety horse at an irritatingly slow pace, belly low to the ground. Come on, horse, he pleaded silently, only a moment more and…

***

The three horsemen alarmingly shot up from their sleeping sacks as their horses’ squeals filled the forest. They watched all of the two seconds it took for the great wolf to strike down the eldest horse. The other two mounts were hopeless for being tied up and well within reach of those huge gnashing canines. Red-stained snow was kicked all around, coating the wolf’s golden brown pelt and the horses’ black.

“What the devil!” the lead horseman cried out, in awe of the sight before him. His horse had been slain right in front of him. And he couldn’t do anything to stop its attacker. The attacker itself, though, was what nearly knocked him flat on his rear by mere glance. He couldn’t believe it—it was the…

“It’s the werewolf!” Keven screamed.

“The guns! Where are they?” Morgan scrambled through their supplies, but then came up with eyes round as saucers in remembrance. “They’re with the horses! How’re we gonna stop it without ‘em!”

“We don’t stop it. We run!” Kevin grabbed onto Morgan’s sleeve, but Morgan shook the frightened rookie off him.

“Sir?”

But the lead horseman didn’t hear him. The man pulled out a knife from his belt and yelled at the blood-smeared beast. “C’mere, you demon! Think ya can get away wit’ killin’ my horse, huh?”

To Morgan and Kevin’s terror, the werewolf raised its massive head from the fallen horse and met eyes with their superior. It took the man’s challenge and leapt down into the ditch to confront him. The horrible thing growled, its stormy eyes filled with rage. There was no way that man’s measly old knife could stand to the beast’s fangs! the two other men thought collectively.

“Sir, wait!” Morgan called to him.

But his leader did not listen. He raised his blade in the air, pointing it at the wolf’s snout, and hollered again. The wolf, too, snarled and took its aim with its jaws unhinged.

The sight was too much for the two younger men huddled together, and they fled the camp before the ferocious demon could turn on them, forgetting their still-living and squealing horses on the other side of the fight. They were long gone before they could look back to witness the outcome of the challenge.


	11. Chapter 11

Oh, no—oh blast him, what had he done! Rhett thought. Cursing himself, he stared in shock down in the red soil at the human’s unmoving body. At the punctures along his neck which had been snapped between the werewolf’s jaws not a minute before. The man’s eyes, full of last-second terror, and lifeless, disturbed him. Rhett had looked into the eyes of his fallen prey countless times, but none of those had been human. It felt…wrong! He never thought that taking the life of a person would be any different than of an animal before then, but now that he’d done it, his stomach churned.

The wolf paced in back and forth around the small camp, unable to shake the regret crashing down on him. Above the ditch still lay the sampled carcass of the man’s horse, the blood of which wafted strongly into his nostrils. And beside it were the two untouched horses, trying desperately to break free from their post and get away from the still-present predator. Rhett couldn’t stand their cries any longer, and approached them carefully, not to get struck by their flailing hooves, and then snapped their ties from the branch. As soon as the terrified animals realized their freedom they galloped away. That only left the two corpses.

The horse he could drag back with him—but, what was he going to do with the man? It didn’t feel right leaving him the way he was. And he obviously wasn’t going to take the body for later consumption. After a long sitting of thinking his options through, Rhett finally decided. He took hold of the man’s coat between his teeth and dragged the body out of the ditch and into the snow. Then, the wolf spent the next long period of time digging through the snow and down into the earth, making a trench just a big enough size for the body. His work definitely wasn’t fit for a proper burial, but Rhett didn’t have the time to make a perfect grave. He needed to make it back to Link soon or man just might come looking for him.

Oh, Link, he thought, how will he take it? Should he tell his brother at all?

Rhett pushed that question out of mind. That problem could be worried about when it comes. Now he only had to finish putting this corpse in its final resting place. He felt another pang of uneasiness thinking about what he was doing. How was he going to live with himself after going through this?

The animal’s carcass trailing alongside him through the snow, Rhett later approached the clearing and then set the thing aside. He’d just remembered that Link, as a normal human, would not stand to have raw meat as a meal, and so he had to get a cooking fire going. He quickly shifted back to his human form before going into the barn to get the matches.

The sounds of his shift caused Link to poke his head out of the entrance as he came up. Rhett didn’t know how to read his expression when they locked eyes.

“You’re very dirty,” the shorter man, wrapped snuggly in the blanket, noted.

Rhett looked down at his hairy chest and noticed the soil and blood caked in the blond curls. “Sure am.” He crossed the barn to the stash of matches and gathered a couple along with a striking stone, then went back out the entrance.

“What’d ya come back with?” Link followed behind him, keeping his gaze above the nude man’s shoulders.

“Uh.” Rhett realized his answer would raise some questions, which danced dangerously close to the subject he wanted to avoid altogether. “Horse.”

As expected, Link took a moment before responding. “Rhett, how’d you run into a horse?”

He sighed. They stopped at a place in the clearing devoid of grass and already stocked with firewood from the last time they’d used it. Soon the tiny flame caught and slowly grew into its designated place. “Our trackers…I found their camp.” Before his brother could say anything, he ran back to retrieve the animal corpse and hauled it up to the cooking fire.

Link’s eyes bulged at the thing, but then quickly looked away. “So, you took one o’ their horses and ran off with it, or…? What happened?”

Rhett noted the man’s obvious suspicion in his tone and written all over his face. Was he expecting to hear the worst? He picked his words carefully as he tore hunks of the carcass’ gruesome insides and skewered them on a stick right in front of his squeamish friend. “Wasn’t exactly a take-and-run situation. There were three of ‘em, and they woke up their men before I could take this one down—they were the same men who arrested you, actually, now that I think about it.”

“Did you run from ‘em—are they after you now?” His Adam’s apple bobbing, Link squinted through the treeline worryingly.

“No. No, they’re long gone,” he muttered. The skewered meat he twirled over the fire cooked much too slowly. He wondered if he could speed up the process somehow.

“So they ran.”

Rhett hesitated. “M-hm.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing.” Of course he’d press it further, Rhett thought as he chewed his lip.

“Two of ‘em ran off. And I let the other two horses go.”

“And the third?” The man sounded as if he didn’t actually want to hear the answer, and rightly so.

Rhett pursed his lips, prolonging the silence as much as he could.

Link straightened, mouth agape, clearly putting the pieces together himself. So long as Rhett didn’t have to say it aloud, he was fine with that. He watched as all sorts of different emotions passed across Link’s face in rapid succession. “Where is that man now?” he demanded.

“In the ground,” he said off-handedly as he pulled the meat from the fire and inspected it. By the smell alone he knew it was well done, so he held the stick out for the other man to take.

Link shifted his eyes from him to the meat and back to him, shooting him a scowl. Even so, the man was starving, so he took it anyway in a disdainful swipe and sampled the strange meat. He made an initial face at the new, unfamiliar taste, but it apparently wasn’t so bad as he kept nibbling at it.

Spoken or not, the truth was now out there, and it hung between them like a bad odor which neither wanted to address. At least for the time being. Rhett stayed silent as he took chunks of innards straight from the source and ate alongside Link, whose hands were clean of blood and delicately handled his meat on a stick. All around them, the woods seemed to become more awake as the sun climbed the sky and the snow glistened in the renewed light. The cloud cover gradually thinned, allowing the sun to peek through. Rhett forced himself to focus solely on these things instead of the heaviness his regret had caused in his chest.

Despite the fact both were breaking their fasts, neither had the stomach to finish off the still-bulky carcass, so Rhett left the remains where another wandering predator could find it. He didn’t plan on staying around the barn much longer. As soon as Link was ready, they were headed straight home. Now that he finally had his blood brother to himself, the cabin called to him more than ever.

 

Unlike the day before, their journey across the far-stretching wilderness did not demand an entire day of travel, as Rhett allowed Link to ride on his back this time. It didn’t take much for his friend to convince Rhett that his wounded right hand was fine enough to ride. The uninterrupted run had cut their time by at least a few hours, and Link slid off the werewolf’s back by the time the two would usually have finished their midday meal.

“Now that that’s over,” Link piped up once they were safe inside the cabin, the barn’s wool blanket tucked underneath his arm to put on the bare mattress. “We need to talk.”

Rhett exhaled slowly through his nostrils. Just when he thought he was in the clear. He would much rather forget it all had happened than say anything more regarding the past couple days’ events. Couldn’t they just nap the rest of the day away together and pretend everything was well?

They sat across from each other on the bed after Link had spread the blanket over it and Rhett had found another pair of trousers to put on. Rhett stroked the well-worn fabric nervously, avoiding his brother’s gaze. It felt as if those shadowed blue eyes were piercing him like ice shards. Link finally broke the tense silence. “First off, I wanna say thank you for busting me out last night. Would’a been better if ya shown up a li’l earlier, but I shouldn’t complain.”

This start caused Rhett’s brows to rise. He appreciated that the man wanted to ease into the discussion instead of outright condemning him for his misdeed. “Oh hush, you know I’d never leave ya alone, Link.”

They shared a quick exchange of shy smiles. Then Link’s eyes flicked down to Rhett’s chest. “I feel like I’m the one responsible for that cut. But I’d be a heckuva lot more sorry if it didn’t already look like it’s half healed.”

He huffed in amusement. “One of the better things of being what I am, I guess.”

“Right…” Rhett watched expectantly as Link’s features grew sullen. “Look, Rhett, I- I’m grateful for all the, uh, protection you’ve given. That ya make me feel secure.” He took deep, calming breaths as he spoke, his words sounding unsure. “I couldn’t begin to repay ya that, but- but, this morning…”

“I got it, all right?” Rhett broke in as calmly as he could manage. He swallowed back the lump forming in his throat. “I know it. I went too far, and it perturbs me.” The smaller man kept quiet and let him speak. “But, listen, if ya really think about it, maybe it was for the better that it happened.”

Link’s brow twitched. “How could you say that?”

“I dunno,” he grumbled down at his feet. “But, the man challenged me—what else was I s’posed to do? Run away so he could hop on another horse and follow me back to you with his gun aimed? I can’t survive a bullet.”

“I dunno,” Link echoed. “I thought to myself last night: ‘Why didn’t ya kill those men when ya had the chance,’ while I was wastin’ away in that cell. I was bitter, ‘cause, ya know, I was about to die! But now- now I realize that those men…they’re human, too. It’s wrong to take a man’s life, obviously. But what’s more, he was from Buies Creek just like us. ‘S close to family, i’nit?”

Rhett tried to comprehend his explanation, to see it from his perspective—jangled as it might’ve been—but he thought I had the gist of it. He replied with a shrug and a chuckle.

Catching on to his puzzlement, Link added, “Guess what I’m tryna’ say is, I get why ya did it, but I certainly don’t think it was right.” He returned a shrug.

Rhett nodded, wondering if all the tension between them over the matter had passed for good. “Fair enough, brother.” He lifted off the bed and headed for the stock pile of firewood, then proceeded to light the hearth. He wanted to make his home as comfortable as possible for Link, and a warm atmosphere was a good place to start on that frosty winter day.

Behind him, he could hear the other man’s repositioning on the mattress. He turned and watched as Link discarded the outer layer of his tattered clothes and boots, and then curled into a ball underneath the blanket, his fists clutching the edge of the wool up to his chin like a child. His dark messy curls swirled across his cheeks as they, too, balled up as he smiled in satisfaction. Rhett couldn’t hold back the quirk of his lips. As his eyes lingered over the man’s face, something suddenly clicked in his head. Something was different.

“’Ey, Link, whatever happened to your, uh—“ Unable to place the word, he made circles around his eyes with his fingers.

Link squinted up at him and tilted his head quizzically. “What? I can’t really see what you’re do—oh! You mean my specs? I sorta misplaced ‘em last night in all the chaos, an’ now I can’t see as well.” His voice took a sad tone.

“Oh. Sorry ‘bout that.” What was he supposed to say to something like that anyway? he wondered. He never had “specs” before, and so he didn’t know the feeling of losing them. He decided to spare him any false empathy.

The fire had grown a reasonable size and quickly warmed the small room, painting the wooden walls a faint flickering orange against the light gray coming through the shudders. Link yawned and so did he soon after. Boy, that bed sure looked comfortable—he just wanted to sleep the rest of the day away.

“Whoa, hold on, now!” Link held out a halting palm as Rhett attempted to climb into bed, and he stopped and raised a questioning brow. “Don’t you dare try layin’ down here! Go take a bath, ya dirty dog.”

“Huh?” The accusation caught him off guard, as well as the name-calling. Rhett looked down at the matted hair on his torso. The congealed blood was flaking away, but there was also a bit of mud caked into it. He’d completely forgotten how filthy he was, and leave it to Link to point it out. “Fine, fine. But what about you! You’re not clean neither!”

“Clean enough! I’ll bathe later. Now get outta here.” The man kicked him away from the edge of the bed, a playful smile stretching his face. And Rhett backed away obediently.

“All right! Guess I’ll join ya later then.” He left Link by himself in the room and went back out the door. “Can’t believe this, sent outta my own cabin by that…” he trailed off after realizing he was talking to himself again. Just like a hermit, he thought and shook his head.

Rhett walked around to the back of the cabin and strode up to the water basin he used to collect rain, which, as he suspected, was frozen over. Of course. Link would’ve been ridiculing him had he been watching, but Rhett didn’t care. He instead used the snow collected overtop the layer of ice and rubbed it around his chest. The snow dissolved into water on contact, so it worked well enough. Eventually, he figured he’d gotten every caked hair and ran his fingers through it, including those of his beard. When his hand crossed it, he winced slightly at the long pink line in the middle of his torso. It was quickly healing, but was still a little sensitive. In a couple days or so he’d forget all about it.

When he came back inside, he immediately checked if Link was still awake. The man’s heavy-lidded eyes followed him as he walked around the mattress. Then he scooted closer to the wall when Rhett pulled the blanket back and slid in next to him. Both lying on their sides, they looked at each other for a while.

“Dirty dog?” Rhett teased.

“Well, ya were.” Link gave a crooked smile before closing his eyes and snuggling deep into the mattress.


	12. Chapter 12

Charles’ eyes flew wide open as he gasped for air, expanding his lungs as much as he possibly could. His hand shot up to his throat and he was relieved to feel it had been unharmed. The phantom feeling of strangulation had indeed only been imagined. He blew out a calming breath, relaxing back in his place under the warm blanket. Suddenly the side of a hand came in soft contact with his cheek, and he stiffened, only then remembering the other man’s presence beside him. Rhett wiped the trail of tears that had streamed down in his panic. He turned his face to the side to look at his friend.

“Havin’ nightmares, too, huh?”

Charles nodded, his heart still pounding.

“What was yours about?”

Lips quivering, he tried to recall all that he’d experienced. “I was hanged. They put the noose ‘round my neck, and let me fall.” His voice came out quiet, hesitant and raspy. “But when I caught on the end o’ the rope…I wouldn’t die, I could only twist myself around an’ try to breathe. But the rope was too tight. It went on forever. Watched my own skin turn blue.” The sensations were fresh in his mind even then, and he was on the verge of losing his composure.

Rhett reached out without warning, encircled him in his arms, and pulled the shaken man into his chest. Charles’ tense muscles gradually relaxed and melted into his warmth. He found the physical contact to be much more comforting than words could ever be. After a long pause, he felt a shudder travel down his spine as Rhett leaned down and spoke sternly directly into his ear, “I’ll never let anything like that ever happen to you.”

Charles’ mind raced to find some what-if that could counter the larger man’s reassurance. “They could always come back for us. More likely they will now, ‘cause ya killed–!”

“What’re they gonna do? Storm the place in an angry mob fashion? Set more traps for you to run into?” Rhett sneered. “If anything, I scared ‘em off into never wandering the woods again.” With a harsh chuckle he added, “Wouldn’t be surprised if their future children start to sing songs about me. ‘The horrifying beast of Buies Creek; beware the woods stained in blood.’ Ya see? You’re safe here.”

His jaw clenched, Charles looked up at him in disbelief. “How dare you turn that man’s death into some form of praise for yourself!”

Rhett’s mouth dropped open. “Link, that’s not what I—well, maybe. But I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“You kill him and you laugh about it! How does that mean nothing?”

The man tripped over his words, trying to find the best way to start explaining away his insensitivity. Charles shook his head at him. Finally Rhett settled for, “Listen. Link, what I did back there bothers me as much as it does you, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. I been dreamin’ about it. I- I’m only trying to make light of it for my own sake, all right? I mean no disrespect to ‘em.”

The nerve, Charles thought. “Is that your apology?” Not allowing Rhett the satisfaction of trying again the right way, he wriggled out of the man’s tight grasp. The chill of the late evening air seeping through the shutters seized him as he was no longer protected by the shared blanket. The room was dark in the absence of the fire and daylight. He had nowhere to go in the tiny cabin, but he couldn’t just climb back into bed. So he walked out the door in spite of his lack of clothing, or boots.

Gooseflesh immediately covered his arms as he crossed them about himself, the cold hitting him in gusts. The wind blew his untrimmed hair into his eyes and he growled at it in annoyance. He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to walk straight back into the cabin, and leaned back on the outer wall to clear his head. Maybe he should’ve insisted Rhett leave the room instead, he thought. Not that he could if he tried, since it was Rhett’s home in the first place. Frustration coursed through him, causing his fists to ball up and his temples to throb. How could that man be so insensitive? So quick to…kill? Charles eased up as he reminded himself one simple fact: He and Rhett were very different creatures. His best friend was more than just human. A creature that exclusively killed to eat. Charles realized he had no right going off on him for doing what his kind was meant to do. He huffed a visible cloud of air, ashamed at his storming out.

A loud thud against the little wooden porch made him jump. What in the world was that? Charles searched the ground around the area that the sound had resonated, and then bumped his toes against something heavy. He leaned down and picked the thing up by a long thin part. It was Rhett’s guitar, he realized. Worried it was he who’d knocked it over somehow, he checked it over for any damage with his hands trailing down its rough surface. No new dents, he sighed in relief.

Just as Charles strummed all the strings in one stroke, the door opened behind him. For some reason Charles felt embarrassed having been caught with it and instantly held it out to Rhett who had only his head poking out. “I, uh, found this. It’d fallen over in the wind but it’s fine.”

In the dark, he couldn’t make out what expression Rhett was making as he took his instrument. The man slipped its strap around him and held it as if he were going to play. “Look, Link. I wanna say I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize, Rhett. ‘S fine, an’ I’d rather forget about it.”

“Ya sure?” He sounded genuinely surprised at Charles’ abrupt change of heart.

“M-hm.” Charles stepped around the man and reentered the cabin—now that he didn’t need to stay outside in anger, he was relieved to be able to return to comfort. Rhett played softly on his guitar for a lingering moment before following him back inside and closing the door on the harsh winter wind.

As Charles slumped down on the corner of the mattress, his stomach made noises, demanding to be filled again. “Say, ya got any grub stocked up hopefully?”

Rhett had set his instrument aside to fire up the hearth again. “Hmm. I suppose that stew had spoiled by now. Ya didn’t let us finish it last morning.” He stood from the hearth and went to skim through his stashes on the opposite side of the cabin. “Gee, I’d forgotten ‘bout that,” he muttered to himself. Several seconds went by before he announced, “You’re in luck. Got some spuds here.”

“Oh, goody.” The smaller man hopped up to join him. He was endlessly grateful seeing that he wouldn’t have to eat meat for the rest of his life with this carnivorous man.

“Wanna help me prepare ‘em? Haven’t had vegetables in a long time.”

“All right. No promises that I know what I’m doin’ though.”

“You’re saying we’re both clueless here?” Rhett laughed.

Charles shrugged self-consciously.

The two stood shoulder-to-shoulder overlooking the boiling pot of skinned potatoes a while later. It was confirmed at that moment that neither had any idea how to tell when a boiled potato was done.

“We should’a just mashed ‘em up.”

“Too late now.” Rhett removed the pot from the fire and pulled them out using a knife, dropping the slimy things into two bowls. When they cooled Charles took a testy spoonful.

“Needs to be seasoned. A lot.”

“I don’t got any o’ that.” Rhett popped an entire spud in his mouth and Charles stared at him open-mouthed. He immediately showed his regret on his face. “Eugh! How do humans eat this?”

The shorter man laughed at him, pointing his spoon teasingly. “See now, what did I say? Needs seasoned.”

“Well, we’re really gonna be hurtin’ until we restock.”

Charles certainly didn’t love the meal, but he pushed through, as a bowl of tasteless boiled spuds was better than nothing. He hoped that by “restock” Rhett meant the same as what he had in mind. Somehow, amazingly, when he looked over at Rhett’s bowl, he saw that the man had also finished. He guessed they were hungrier than he’d thought.

He stacked his empty bowl in Rhett’s on the counter and dropped his gaze absently—then something grabbed his attention. Underneath the counter was an overturned metal trough, a fairly large size. It looked perfect for a tub. And that was exactly what the foul-smelling man needed. “I’m takin’ a bath tonight.”

Rhett laughed at him. “Outside? The water’s frozen over.”

“No, silly, right here. I know ya have a tub there hidden in the corner.” He pointed at the trough.

“Oh, would ya look at that. Good thinking, Link.” He smiled, and Charles pondered his strange tone. It sounded a little patronizing. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Deciding not to dwell on it, he went and pulled out the trough. “Here, I’ll fill it for ya.” Rhett took it from him and did exactly that, to Charles’ mild annoyance.

“I’m not helpless, ya know.”

“Wha’d’ya mean by that? I’m only tryna be a good host.”

“But I sorta live here, too, now, don’t I?”

“Hm, point taken.” Rhett heated a fraction of the water over the fire so the bath wasn’t unbearable. As he did so, Charles stripped down. Once he stood there naked in the firelight he tapped his foot impatiently.

When Rhett was done preparing the bath he quickly asked, “Ya have soaps around, I hope?”

“’Course. I’m not as gross as you seem to think I am.” He went back to his stashes, and Charles climbed into the metal tub while his back was turned, trying to get comfortable sitting in the lukewarm water. “Here ya go!” Rhett came back and threw a homemade bar into the water which Charles failed to catch.

“Thanks.” He lathered it up quickly.

“All riiight,” the other man said contently, sitting down his back against the tub with the guitar in hand. Charles listened to him strum an unfamiliar tune while he scrubbed himself. As the song stretched on Rhett soon began to hum and occasionally switch to whispered lyrics.

“What’s that song?”

Rhett’s playing paused. “Jus’ somethin’ I made up recently.”

“What’s it about?”

“Can’t tell ya. It’s not done yet.”

Charles’ lips pursed. “If you’re not gonna tell me then play somethin’ else, ‘r it’s gonna bother me the whole time.”

Rhett harrumphed. “Whatever you say, your highness.”

Something about the way he said it caused Charles to spitefully act on his impulses, which, at that moment, told him to shake his head vigorously. As planned, his drenched hair flung water everywhere, and more importantly got a reaction out of the other man.

“Whoa-ho, watch it!” The water rolled off Rhett’s bare shoulders, falling down into puddles on the wood floor.

Charles couldn’t help but give him that childish open-mouthed grin of his when their eyes met. Rhett’s annoyed expression inspired him with an idea. “Sorry, it’s canine instinct.”

“Hmph, you have no such thing,” Rhett scoffed while wiping drops of the sudsy water off his instrument.

“Don’t believe me?” He clung to the wall of the trough, stretching his head out to whisper right into the man’s ear. “What if I told ya that I, too, was a werewolf?”

“I know you’d be lying.”

“What makes you so sure?” He flashed his notably sharp and crooked teeth in an animalistic snarl and growled in Rhett’s ear.

Rhett turned back and squinted at him, smirking, and Charles smiled wider seeing as he was willing to go along. The man turned around to face him fully. “Because I can look deep into your eyes,” he cupped Charles’ cheeks in his palms firmly without warning, “and see exactly what you are.” Charles’ eyes widened at the unexpected action. They stared at each other for an unsettlingly long moment, and he felt his captured face heat up at Rhett’s mischievous expression in such close approximation. This made Rhett smile in satisfaction, which only made it worse. “Just as I suspected: pure human. Not a beast in sight behind these blues.” Despite himself, Charles felt his lips start to quiver as he tried to make words form.

After a final humiliating snicker, Rhett dropped his hands from Charles’ cheeks and rested them over his knuckles on the metal wall that separated them. Charles dropped his gaze bashfully with a shaky little smile, at a loss as to why he suddenly couldn’t function around the person he’d always been most comfortable with. He didn’t move as Rhett briefly pressed his forehead against his, and then said softly, “Now hurry up in there. I can’t get back to bed ‘til this thing’s dumped out.”

Charles sunk back into the water as the man rose to leave. And for some strange reason, he was tempted to play on Rhett’s nerves once more, as though his last attempt had any success. There wasn’t much thought against it, and he heard himself say, “Maybe I don’t wanna get out.”

Though his reaction wasn’t immediate Rhett turned back and warned, “Ya better.”

“Why?” Charles pressed.

“I don’t trust you with a whole tub o’ water while I’m sleepin’.”

“’Fraid I’ll do somethin’ to ya?”

“Afraid you’ll flood the place,” he corrected in all sincerity.

“B’cause I would do something that stupid.” Charles rolled his eyes. “I jus’ wanna sleep in here—‘stead o’ fighting over the covers with a big hairy dog man.”

That caught Rhett’s attention, as intended. He huffed. “Well, you’re outta luck with that situation. You’re stuck with the dog man.”

“Huh-uh.” He rested his head against the side of the metal as if it were as comfortable as any pillow.

“If ya don’t get out so I can dump it, I’m gonna take you out.”

“You can’t take me out.”

“Here I go.” Rhett marched right up to the trough and held out his arms, and Charles slunk back into the corner, surprised he was actually serious.

“Ah, no, wait!” He giggled nervously as two hands entered the water after him. “Don’t do it, please.” Too late, Rhett got hold of him and hoisted him up with astounding ease, as if he were nothing but a little tyke. Water dipped everywhere off his body once he came up over the tub, and Rhett held him there for a while so he wouldn’t drip so much onto the floor. “Ah-ha, it’s cold!” Charles called out hysterically amongst his giggle fit.

“Good thing I wasn’t plannin’ on tossin’ you out with it, then. An’ trust me that was my second choice if ya didn’t cooperate.” Rhett cradled him inches away from his chest and carried him the short distance to the hearth, dumping him gently on the floor to dry before the fire. Charles whipped his head around and watched him haul the trough out the door, letting in a cruel gust to chill him to the bone.

“Can’t believe you actually did that,” he muttered in mock anger once Rhett came back in.

Ignoring him, Rhett returned to the mattress on the other side of the room. “I’m goin’ back to sleep now. You can join me, or you can sleep right there on the floor if you’re so opposed to the dog-man.”

Charles looked back to the fire in front of him. Warm as it was, he understood what Rhett was getting at. He remained there on the floor until his exposed body was dry, and then went to put on his trousers. He then returned to the bed and climbed in after the other man. When he pressed his forehead against Rhett’s shoulder blades, Rhett gave a satisfied huff.


	13. Chapter 13

The two leaned against the outside wall of the cabin and watched the sky as rosy clouds drifted across the evening horizon. After weeks of frequent snowfall and snow-melt, it finally seemed like the season was at its end. Link was becoming more and more comfortable leaving the warmth and safety of the cabin and accompanying Rhett on simple nature walks each late afternoon, when Rhett would bring his guitar along and serenade Link with songs he’d made up, with lyrics specifically for his best friend. Or, sometimes, they’d speak at length about possible futures for the two of them. The bearded man thought he had it clearly engraved in his head that they were going to leave this place behind to find something better. Buies Creek certainly had nothing for either of them anymore.

His brother turned his back to Rhett and crossed his arms, not in anger but in deep thought. He patiently awaited Link’s next words. “I still don’t understand why ya don’t wanna jus’ settle in the next town over. Not much of a trip to get there, an’ we’d still have a familiarity with the surrounding land.”

Rhett braced himself for expected debate, as this was the one integral part of their future plan in which they didn’t yet see eye to eye. “You’re right, but that’s just it. That’s the problem.”

“But why’s it a problem?” Link twisted himself back around to face him, his stance as defensive as his words.

“Think of it, Link.” The man ran a hand back through his golden brown mane of which the former barber wanted to trim and style so badly, but lacked the proper tools to do so. “The next town over is only a couple days away on horseback. Too easy for word to get out. Besides, ya don’t know for sure the town’s not heard the rumors of us. I don’t wanna take the chance.”

The shorter man actually mulled it over, instead of outright dismissing Rhett’s perspective like the other night. Yes, he was finally getting to the man! Link hesitated before responding quietly, “You’re probably right.”

Oh, thank the heavens! Rhett thought. “Huh, what was that? I didn’t quite catch that.” He cupped his ear to the other man smugly.

Link blew out through his nostrils. “You heard me. Maybe you’re right. Maybe!”

The bigger man laughed with a triumphant nod. “Listen, brother, I’m only lookin’ out for you. I don’t want them huntin’ ya down again.”

“Oh, is that it? Thought you were sure they’d never set foot in these woods anymore.”

“There are such things as roads, Link.”

Link shook his head. “Forget it. Anyways, if ya wanna avoid the nearby towns, then where do ya suppose we go?”

Gee, how many ways did he have to spell it out? “As I’ve said—many times—I think we need to take advantage of our freedom by travelling, well, as far as we can go. An’ by that I mean we reach the other coast.”

“All the way there?” Link pouted.

“Yes, all the way. Ya know, Link, my whole life I was tied down to this little piece of land. I couldn’t leave ‘cause you done rooted yourself here. But now that I got you with me, I can travel wherever the heck I want! And I’ll tell ya right now, I’m not gonna waste that opportunity by you insisting we settle in the next blasted town over.” Rhett’s voice had risen unintentionally as he poured out his thoughts, and his brother listened passively.

Both simultaneously took a calming breath. “All right, Rhett, I get it. Ya always had that want for adventure, an’ I’m the only thing stoppin’ ya, ain’t I.” An impish look briefly crossed his features, but then he dropped it with a shrug.

“Uh-huh. So, wha’d’ya say, buddy?” he nudged Link in the ribs with an elbow. “To the coast due west; a journey full of adventure, discovery, peril—“

“No peril, please,” Link cut in, his fingers beginning to trace the scar wrapping around his right hand.

With a head tilt, Rhett started over. “A journey full of adventure, discovery—no peril—and… What am I missing?”

“Uh, making memories together, I guess?” He made a lopsided grin.

“Ooh, that’s a good one.” Rhett winked at him, and Link gave a nervous little laugh and shifted his eyes elsewhere. So strange, Rhett thought, how the man could so easily revert back to his awkward early teenage years when the larger man teased. It was rather intriguing. He had taken note of it early on in the winter during their little hibernation and quite regularly experimented with different ways to make it happen. In his best of moods now that he’d gotten his way in the discussion, he felt almost encouraged to keep going.

Sensing Rhett leaning in closer, Link curiously glanced up again. Mere inches away, Rhett noted the increasing speed of the man’s heartbeat and the shakiness of his breath slipping out his parted lips. Eyes flicking down to Link’s rising chest, he raised a hand and placed it firmly over the fluttery beat of his heart. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of the fleeting life of his prey during a hunt at that moment. Link being the cornered rabbit. But he surprised Rhett by encircling his wrist with tentative fingers; like the werewolf was actually the one to have been snared. The beastly man licked his lips, taking in whatever his heightened senses could tell him regarding his friend. Yes, his longing was requited—only coated by a thin layer of fear.

He’d have to take care of that. Rhett used his other hand to raise Link’s untrimmed chin up, encouraging he meet his gaze. In the quickly fading light, the man’s icy blues were dark and unfocused; Rhett hoped he could make out the smile he was giving anyway. “Let’s make a memory together, Link.” He kept his tone light and playful so as to soothe the other man’s nerves.

Link exhaled slowly and nodded. Given all the invitation he needed, Rhett retracted his hands from Link’s grip and instead wrapped them around the man. He then hoisted him off the ground with one swift movement and held his body close. Like a parent and his child, or, more appropriately, like two newlyweds. Link voiced his surprise as he secured himself to Rhett’s torso with tightly wrapped limbs. “This wasn’t what I had in mind,” he gasped.

Rhett chuckled, shaking his head. “Wha’d’ya mean? I’m carrying you inside so ya won’t be cold. I want this to be a good memory.”

“Oh.” Link giggled with him, resting his head against the side of the bearded man’s neck. And Rhett laid his head over his as he carried his brother inside and kicked the door shut behind them. He eagerly made his way past the lazy fire to their shared mattress, and then flung Link onto it, the man unable to stop himself from grinning widely the entire time.


End file.
